


73 Days

by heykaylabeth



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, welcome to trope city i hope you enjoy your stay!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:29:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 62,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8408704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heykaylabeth/pseuds/heykaylabeth
Summary: After a drunken night, Erin and Holtz have to deal with some consequences.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I KNOW that I shouldn't start writing MORE fics when I have others that I need to be finishing, but I have no self control and I'm a disaster. Also, this is full of tropes and it's ridiculous and goofy and fun to write so I hope it's also fun to read and, uh, yeah. Nothing about this should be taken seriously. It's RIDICULOUS.

The phone rings. And rings. And rings.

 

At first, Erin's brain doesn't register the sound as anything to pay attention to. Her brain isn't registering much at all. And when it begins registering things, the first thing that it does register is the blinding pain in her head. And then the phone.

 

It isn't her cell phone. It's an actual phone with a cord and a real  _ ringing  _ ring. The hotel phone. Sitting atop the nightstand in the much-too-fancy hotel that none of them would have ever been able to afford on their own.

 

She groans and opens her eyes but regrets it because the sun is too bright and her entire head is throbbing and her mouth is too dry with a revolting taste lingering on her tongue and her limbs are aching and she wants the phone to stop ringing.

 

Then there's a clamor, the sound of a hand hitting wood, something falling to the floor, and a sleepy grunt when the phone finally does stop ringing.

 

The sleepy grunt comes from right beside her, and Erin turns, cracking one eye open to see Holtz in bed with her, facing towards the nightstand, phone in her hand. She grumbles something into the phone, then slams it down, falls face-first into the pillows.

 

They're sharing a room but they have separate beds, so Erin doesn't understand why Holtz is in hers. Or is she in Holtz's? Either way, she doesn't know why they're in a bed together. She tries to remember getting into bed, tries to figure out what decision led them to sharing, but she's coming up blank.

 

In fact... she hardly remembers anything from the night before at all.

 

"Holtz?" she croaks out, her throat sore and dry. There's an incoherent groan from beside her. "Holtz, how much did I drink last night?"

 

"If you think," she begins, lifting her head from the pillow and looking over at Erin with squinting eyes, "that I have any idea how much  _ you  _ drank...then you were even drunker than me."

 

Erin stares at her. Both because she's trying to comprehend what she's said, but also because her appearance is...odd. She's wearing makeup, but it's smeared across her face, pink lipstick smudged all the way down her chin, eyeliner running down her cheeks, and her hair is down, but it's messy and matted and sticking up all over the place.

 

"You were drunk?" Erin asks.

 

"Uh. Yeah."

 

"But..." she frowns.

 

"You have something in your hair," Holtz points out.

 

She turns her head slowly, but even that sends pain shooting through her skull, down her neck, all over her whole body. She grimaces, then looks at her hair splayed over the pillow, and she sees some sort of bright yellow plastic and grabs it only to find that it's stuck in her hair.

 

"Eurgh," she cringes, touching something sticky, strands of hair wrapped around and stuck to it. "What is--? Is this  _ candy _ ? Why is there  _ candy  _ stuck in my  _ hair _ ?"

 

"Is that a Ring Pop?" Holtz asks, and she begins to laugh softly, but immediately stops and then groans.

 

"What the...?" Erin mumbles, unsticking the half-eaten candy from her hair, pulling out several strands in the process. "Oh,  _ gross _ ."

 

She tosses the candy off of the bed and looks towards Holtz, who has her face pressed into the pillow again. She has the blankets pulled up to her neck, so it's just a mess of blonde hair peeking out while the blanket rises and falls rather quickly, as if Holtz is panting.

 

"Um...you okay?" she asks. Holtz simply groans.

 

"Is this death?" comes her muffled response from the pillow. "Is this what death feels like? I know this can't be Hell because you're here, but maybe it’s Purgatory. Maybe I'm in Purgatory, because I get to spend my whole afterlife with you but I will feel like  _ this  _ forever."

 

"Sure are saying a lot of words for feeling like death," Erin comments.

 

"It's a coping mechanism."

 

"You weren't supposed to drink," Erin states. "That was the whole deal."

 

"Yeah, I know, Erin. Believe me, I'm regretting a lot of things right now."

 

"I told you that I would only drink if you stayed sober enough to keep me from doing stupid things. Because I do stupid things when I drink. That's why--"

 

"Yeah, I  _ know _ , that's why you hadn't drank more than a few beers since we've been here. I know, Erin. I  _ know _ ."

 

She's cranky. Erin attributes it to the hangover. She isn't offended. But she is confused.

 

"But we made a  _ deal _ . You were supposed to stay sober."

 

"And I did," she says, lifting her head and looking at her. "Long enough for you to change your mind and decide that it wasn't any fun if it was only you drinking."

 

"What?"

 

"And believe me, I  _ did  _ argue. But you were very forceful."

 

"I could not have been  _ that-- _ "

 

"You sat on top of me and poured vodka into my mouth, Erin. First from a bottle. And then from your own mouth."

 

" _ What _ _?!_ "

 

"You called it Mama Bird-ing. It was disgusting. And adorable."

 

"I...did  _ not _ ..."

 

"Yes. Yes, you did," she nods, but then she stops, a frown crossing over her face, brow furrowing, and she closes her eyes for a moment, her breathing suddenly much heavier.

 

"Are you....?"

 

"Oh, god," she whimpers, and then she's throwing the blankets off of her, and jumping out of the bed, sprinting in the direction of the bathroom. Erin only gets a quick glance at what she's wearing, but it leaves her bewildered. Because she's in a dress. Tight, white, and riding up her thighs.

 

And then there's the unmistakable sound of retching and the splash of vomit hitting the water in the toilet. Erin cringes, pressing her hands over her ears, not wanting to hear it, the noise alone making her feel queasy. But she hears it again, only slightly muted. And then again.

 

Then silence.

 

She thinks that maybe she should get out of bed and check on Holtz, because she's been in the bathroom for a while without puking or making any sort of indication that she's alive.

 

But when she pulls the blankets off of her, she's taken aback by her own outfit. She's in a dress that she has no memory of ever seeing before, also white, flowy with thin straps, and with some sort of stain down the front. She trying to find any sort of pieces to even attempt to put together to figure out what the hell they did last night when Holtz emerges from the bathroom.

 

Standing up, she looks even more of a mess than she did when she was in bed. She walks slowly, appears to be limping slightly, and Erin has never even seen her in a dress before, so seeing it now is _weird_. Especially this particular dress. It's so tight, conforming to every single curve of her body, stopping several inches above her knees.

 

"Uh, hey, Erin?" She asks in a soft mumble. "What the fuck am I wearing?"

 

"I was wondering the same thing," she admits. "About you and about myself."

 

Holtz tilts her head, narrowed eyes peering intently at Erin.

 

"Did we decide to go shopping or something?"

 

"Apparently," Erin says.

 

"And you  _ let  _ me buy  _ this _ ?" Holtz asks, looking down at her body, pulling at the hem of the dress, wiggling a bit. She tugs it down a few inches, but when she does, she pulls it  _ all  _ down, the already-low neckline plunging even lower, her breasts threatening to spill out. Erin can’t help but laugh as Holtz screws up her face in a grimace, pulling the dress back up on top, and then seemingly gives up, stepping towards the bed and falling onto it, covering herself up with the blankets once more.

 

“Why are you in my bed?” Erin asks.

 

“‘Cause this is where I woke up,” she says.

 

“Okay, but why? Why were we in the same bed?”

 

“I have no idea,” she admits, turning her head to look at her. Erin is sitting up, her knees pulled up, resting her head on top of them, and she keeps her eyes on Holtz.

 

“I don’t...remember…,” Erin begins, then trails off.

 

“Me either,” Holtz says. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that drunk in my entire life. I hardly remember anything and I don’t like that at all.”

 

“What did we  _ do? _ ”

 

“Bought dresses at some point,” she says, and then she lifts herself up onto her elbows. “Hey, your dress still has a tag on it.”

 

She reaches towards the back of Erin’s neck and Erin feels the slight tugging of Holtz grabbing the attached tag.

 

“ _ Holy shit,”  _ Holtz gasps.

 

“What?!” Erin asks, turning (too quickly. Much, much too quickly) to see Holtz’s wide-eyed expression.

 

“Um,” she mumbles, then shakes her head, ripping the tag from off the dress. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Dress is stained so you can’t return it anyways. No use knowing how much it cost.”

 

“ _ What?” _

 

“Nothing,” she says again, crumpling up the tag in her hand and throwing it across the room. “Nothing.”

 

“Oh my god, how much did I spend on this?!” she asks, looking down and running her hands over the white chiffon.

 

“Unimportant,” Holtz states simply.

 

“Holtz, how much?”

 

“Um.”

 

“More than a hundred?”

 

“ _ Maybe.” _

 

“More than two hundred?!”

  
“ _ Possibly.” _

 

“ _ Three _ hundred?!”

 

“That...multiplied by two...plus twenty-five.”

 

“ _ What _ ?! Six... _ six hundred and twenty-five dollars?! _ ” she exclaims.

 

“ _ Loud,”  _ Holtz hisses, head falling back down, hands coming to cover her ears.

 

“Oh my  _ god,”  _ she says, burying her face in her hands. If she drunkenly spent over six hundred dollars on a  _ dress,  _ she has no idea what else she might have done the previous night. Her heart is racing and she feels like  _ she  _ might vomit now. She doesn’t, though. She takes a few deep breaths, reasoning with herself that it could be  _ worse.  _ Or...something. 

 

"Why was the phone ringing?" Erin asks, suddenly remembering that that happened.

 

"Oh, uh, they were calling to ask if we still wanted the room service order we placed this morning?"

 

"This  _ morning _ ? What time is it now?" she responds, the thought suddenly occurring to her that she doesn't even know what time it is.

 

"Um. Three," Holtz answers.

 

"In the afternoon?!"

 

"I think it's a little too sunny for it to be three in the morning, so yeah, I'm gonna go with PM."

 

"Oh my god," she runs her hands over her face. "How  _ late  _ were we out? What were we  _ doing _ ?"

 

"Asking a lot of unanswerable questions there, Erin."

 

"What's the last thing you remember doing?!"

 

"Shit, um... I don't know. Everything is just in little flashes and I don't know if the flashes are in chronological order and...I don't  _ know _ . We were here for a while. Because this is where we started drinking. And then. And then...um. We... went to the hotel bar, I think..."

 

"Wait! Where's my phone?! Maybe we took pictures!" Erin exclaims.

 

"Oh, that's so smart," Holtz agrees, sitting up in the bed and glancing around the room. "But I have no idea where my phone might be. If I ended up in this dress with no pockets, I don't really know how I was carrying anything."

 

Erin spots her purse lying on the floor close to the bed. She extends her arm, sliding out as far at she needs to to grab it, pulling it towards her.

 

"Looks like I ended up holding your stuff," Erin says, finding Holtz's phone and wallet right on top. She tosses them both onto the mattress.

 

"And my phone is dead," Holtz comments.

 

"Mine isn't," Erin says, first seeing that she has several missed calls from Abby as well as a text message.

 

_ U guys alive?????? _

 

Before that, though, are other texts that she has no memory of sending or receiving.

 

"Oh, oh, I was texting Abby," she says. "At one in the morning, I told her that she needed to meet us and it was an emergency?"

 

"What?" Holtz asks.

 

"And then she asked what was wrong. And I didn't answer. And then she said she was calling me... which, I assume she did. And then thirty minutes later, I sent a text saying 'where is Elvira'?"

 

" _ Elvira _ ?" Holtz raises her eyebrows. "Did we meet Elvira last night? Because if we met Elvira and I don't remember it, I'm gonna be  _ pissed _ ."

 

"That's it from last night," she frowns, closing out her texts, and opening up her photo albums. There are several new pictures but they are all blurry, with bad lighting, and they tell her nothing. She groans, dropping her phone down.

 

Just then, there's a knock on the door, followed by "room service!"

 

"Oh, I guess I told them to go ahead with the order," Holtz grumbles, and then slides out of the bed. Erin watches her walk towards the door, her dress riding up with every step she takes.

 

And then two hotel employees are wheeling in three small tables full of covered dishes and Erin's mouth drops open because they seem to have order an entire  _ feast _ .

 

"Uhh," Holtz mumbles. "So we, um. We ordered...?"

 

"Two of everything on the breakfast menu, ma'am," one of the employees answers with a smile.

 

"Two of....everything...wow. yeah, I can see how that would seem like a good idea while shit-faced."

 

Erin is incapable of words and can only stare. In the middle of each of the three tables is a rose in a vase, and on one of them is a bottle of champagne next to a carafe of orange juice, two mimosas already served in champagne flutes.

 

"Oh. Um," Holtz says, and then reaches for her wallet, opening it, but then looks at Erin. "All my cash is gone."

 

"What?"

 

"All my cash is gone. I'm assuming I did something stupid with it, but I can worry about that later, but uh, we need to tip these guys and uh..."

 

"Oh. Right. Right," Erin nods, grabbing her own wallet, partially convinced that she'll open it to find all of her cash gone as well, but she lets out a relieved breath when she sees that she still has some. She grabs two tens, hands them to Holtz, who hands them to the two workers.

 

"Thank you," one of them says. "And congratulations."

 

"Um, thanks, congratulations to you, too," Holtz responds in a mumble as they leave the room. Erin stares at the three tables, all of the covered dishes, trying to wrap her mind around the whole situation.

 

"Why did we do this?" she asks with a frown. Holtz simply shakes her head and pulls the shiny silver cover up from one of the dishes.

 

"Ooh, pancakes," she says. "I love pancakes...except...the smell of pancakes right now...kind of making me...yeah. Yep. I'm gonna go puke again. Be right back."

 

"Can you like, turn on the sink this time so I can't hear it?" Erin calls out to her.

 

"Sure!"

 

The sound of running water blocks out most of the vomiting noises. Erin runs her fingers through her hair where she pulled out the sticky candy. Strands are matted together from the sugary mess. She lets it fall back down onto her shoulder and she finally slides out of bed for the first time. Her limbs ache. When she takes a step, her legs feel wobbly, her thighs burning, and she doesn't even know what she did last night, she can't even begin to figure out why her body is in such pain.

 

She sees herself in the mirror on the opposite wall. Her hair is a mess. Her face is a mess.  _ She  _ is a mess.

 

"I'm never drinking again," Holtz says from the doorway of the bathroom. "Never. Not ever."

 

"Make sure you're drinking water," Erin says, turning to look at her. "You're probably already really dehydrated from the alcohol, and now the puking...drink water."

 

"Right. Yeah. Smart. Thanks," she nods, slowly shuffling back to the bed once more.

 

"I need a shower," she announces. "I'm gonna do that."

 

"'Kay," Holtz grumbles, covering herself up with blankets again.

 

Erin steps into the bathroom and her head is pounding, she feels like it very well might explode, and she squeezes her eyes shut, taking several deep breaths. She turns on the shower, pulling off her clothes, and when she steps in, she doesn't even bother trying to stand for any duration of it. She just sits down on the cool tile, letting the lukewarm water hit her skin.

 

She sits there for a while, eventually leaning her head against the wall, her eyelids drooping shut.

 

She can't remember ever feeling this hung over in her entire life. She also can't remember any other time that she'd been so drunk that she just  _ forgot  _ an  _ entire night _ . Sure, she's blacked out before, but it usually happened towards the end of the night, and she would wake up the next morning and not remember a few  _ hours _ . But not.... She had started drinking in the early evening. Around five or so. There is  _ so much _ missing from her memory.

 

She didn't even want to come here in the first place.

 

When they had successfully busted several malevolent ghosts from a very fancy, very expensive, five-star hotel in Manhattan, the owner had been so appreciative that he had gifted them with a free week's stay at any of his other hotels, airfare included. They'd had multiple destinations to choose from. This was not Erin's top choice. In fact, it hadn't been one of her choices _at all_. But she had been severely outnumbered. Abby and Patty both kept insisting on how much  _ fun  _ it would be. Erin’s barely had any fun at all. And  _ this  _ certainly is not  _ fun. _

 

She just sits under the water for at least twenty minutes before she finally grabs a small bottle of hotel shampoo, beginning to actually wash away the traces of whatever she had gotten herself into last night. By the time she turns the water off, she almost feels human again. But then she stands, and her head pounds, and she's instantly dizzy, and she grabs a towel, wrapping it around herself, and then dropping to sit on the closed lid of the toilet. She lets out a groan, doubling over, folding her arms atop her knees and resting her head on her arms.

 

"Hey,  _ Eriiiiin _ ," Holtz calls from the other side of the closed door. Erin doesn't feel like shouting, so she reaches towards the bathroom door, opening it.

 

"What?"

 

"So, um. Don't freak out, but--"

 

"What?! Don't freak out? Why would I freak out? You telling me to not freak out implies that there is something to freak out about!"

 

"Okay, yeah, you're right, I should have taken my audience into consideration," Holtz says, appearing in the doorway. She's washed her face and changed her clothes -- now in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt -- and she holds a piece of paper in her hand. "Let me try this again. Um. Erin?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"Everything is _totally fine_ ," she says. "But, um...I think...um. I think I know what we did last night."

 

And then she drops the piece of paper onto Erin's towel-clad lap. She lifts it, her eyes scanning over the first few words.

 

State of Nevada. County of Clark. Marriage Certificate.

 

Join in lawful wedlock. Erin Gilbert. Jillian Holtzmann.

 

"We...?"

 

"Got married. In Vegas. To each other. Yeah."

 

"Oh my god."

  
Her head is definitely about to explode.


	2. Chapter 2

"We should...we should put a stop to this...shouldn't we?"

 

"Morally? Ethically?" Abby responded, looking up at Patty. "Probably. Yes. But...."

 

"But you kinda wanna see how it turns out, right?"

 

"Oh my god, I _really_ do," she nodded.

 

"I'm _so glad_ you guys are here," Holtz said, stepping close to stand in front of them both, draping her arms over each of their shoulders, hanging her head down low, her hair falling into her face. "I can't imagine not sharing this moment with you."

 

"Okay, Holtzy, that's...," Patty began, but trailed off, simply patting Holtz's arm.

 

"Yeah, I'm so happy you came!" Erin agreed, wrapping her arms around Abby, hugging her close. "I mean, it's our _wedding_ . We _need_ our best friends at our _wedding_!"

 

"Oh my god," Abby muttered. "This is really happening."

 

"This is _really happening_!" Holtz exclaimed, a manic grin spreading over her face, and she looked over at Erin, and then, without warning, they were launching themselves at each other, full-on making out in the reception area of the twenty-four hour chapel they had found themselves in.

 

“Oh, wow, that’s-- they’re really going for it, aren’t they?” Abby commented.

 

“I know, um, that the whole reason we made sure that they shared a room this week was because we _wanted_ them to finally get together, but this...is...a lot.”

 

“They’re moving _a lot_ faster than I thought they would.”

 

“I figured they’d start out with a nice first date.”

 

“Should we stop them? We _should_ stop them. Right?" Abby asked.

 

"Morally? Ethically?" Patty smiled. "Maybe. But, you know, it's not hard to get a Vegas marriage annulled."

 

"That's true," Abby agreed.

 

"Look. Right there. Right in this lobby, there's a bunch of pamphlets for divorce lawyers. And gambling addiction. And alcoholism..."

 

"Hey, gotta give 'em credit for knowing their clientele," Abby shrugged.

 

So, putting all morals and ethics aside, they watched their two friends get drunkenly married at a twenty-four hour chapel in Las Vegas.

 

"As one of the most important women in history, as well as a personal hero of mine once said," Holtz began, holding Erin's hands in hers, "If you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it. And this is me, Jillian Holtzmann, declaring that I _do_ like it. So I _am_ putting a ring on it."

 

*

 

"This is like-- this is like, a _joke_ , right?" Erin asks, a frantic edge to her voice, and she isn't looking at Holtz. She's staring down at the piece of paper -- the marriage certificate that Holtz found safely secured in a folder in her suitcase when she went to change her clothes.

 

"Um," she says, not really seeing how a very clear marriage certificate could possibly be a joke.

 

"Like, like, you know, tourist shops sell these, right? Like a gag? You know, you buy 'em, trick people into thinking you got Vegas married? _Right_ _?!_ "

 

"That seems like a weird joke," she answers. "I mean, admittedly, it's a joke I would definitely participate in, but uh. Look at the bottom."

 

"Unofficial document," Erin reads aloud. "Official certificate will be mailed in seven to ten days."

 

"Yeah."

 

"Oh my god. _Oh my god_ ," Erin says, her eyes wide, sitting there with just a towel wrapped around her, and Holtz tries not to focus on _that_ , instead tries to focus on the matter at hand. The matter being that they somehow got married and have absolutely no recollection of it.

 

"This is my signature," Erin points at a spot on the paper. "This is my signature, but I do not remember signing this at all. I don't remember... I don't... how? How did this happen? This can't be real. This isn't real."

 

She seems certain, as if she has just decided that it isn't real. Holtz fidgets, bringing a hand up to nervously run her fingers through her hair, but when she does, it's knotted and matted and her fingers can't move through it at all. She'll have to take care of that later.

 

"Erin, look at everything," she tells her. "It all adds up. White dresses? Ring Pops? That _had_ to have been my idea. If you think that I _wouldn't_ think that that was a great idea, then you don't know me _at all_."

 

"Yeah, but--" she begins to argue.

 

"The hotel guys congratulating us?!" Holtz continues on. "And-- and...oh. _Ohh_!"

 

"What?"

 

"Elvira," she says. " _Elvis_ . You meant to type _Elvis_ . Because...Vegas wedding...Elvis... I mean, I _think_ that makes sense. Unless Elvira was at our wedding. Which, again, I will be pissed if that happened and I don't remember it."

 

"Oh my god," Erin says yet again. "Wedding. Our _wedding_."

 

"Yeah," Holtz nods. "Wedding. We had one of those. I'm assuming."

 

"I think I'm gonna throw up."

 

"Speaking from experience, puking _will_ make you feel better," she says, and then steps out of the doorway, back towards the bed that she woke up in. Erin's bed.

 

She's trying so hard to remember anything, _anything_ at all after having drinks at the hotel bar, but it's just in flashes. She remembers the blur of lights of the Vegas strip as they walked, and she remembers the feeling of Erin's hand in hers. She thinks that they were dancing at some point. She remembers kissing her.

 

Vaguely.

 

She remembers the kisses when Erin was drunk before she was. She remembers _those_ clearly because she was still sober and they caught her by surprise and it took everything in her to stop Erin, to tell her that it didn't feel right if she was drunk. She remembers that. She doesn't know if Erin remembers that. She doesn't know if she should tell her.

 

But she remembers really kissing her, too. Really, _really_ kissing her. The images in her mind are blurry, the locations completely unclear, but she remembers the feeling of her lips on hers, her tongue against hers, strands of her hair between her fingers. She looks at the bed that she's sitting on, eyes roaming over the mattress and the wrinkled sheets. Did they...? She likes to think that she would remember _that_ , doesn't know how she _could_ forget that, but she also would have thought that she would remember _marrying_ Erin, too, so...

 

She groans, falling down onto the pillows again, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes, moving her hands in slow circles, alleviating some of the pain in her head.

 

"Holtz. Holtz, wake up."

 

She doesn't know when she fell asleep. Doesn't know how it happened. She blinks her eyes slowly open, finding a fully-clothed Erin standing above her, beside the bed.

 

"How long have I...?"

 

"Like thirty minutes," she answers. "Abby called. She and Patty want to meet us for an early dinner before we head to the airport."

 

"Dinner? Food? Eating? Moving?" she groans. "Do we have to?"

 

"Holtz..." Erin says, and then Holtz sits up quickly, much too quickly, and looks up at her.

 

"Do you think they know?"

 

"Going off of my text messages from last night, I _think_ so, but Abby didn't mention anything over the phone, so...I don't know."

 

Holtz nods, contemplating it.

 

"How are you feeling?" she asks her

 

"Physically? Or...?"

 

"Either. Both. I dunno," she shrugs.

 

"Like crap."

 

"Physically?"

 

"Both."

 

"Ah."

 

"I hate not being able to remember anything," she frowns, sitting down on the bed near Holtz's feet. "And I just don't...understand...how we...."

 

"Yeah," Holtz agrees with a sigh.

 

"This...this doesn't _happen_ in real life! This isn't _supposed_ to happen in real life!"

 

"But it did. Or so it seems."

 

"Yeah," she says, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, eyebrows furrowing before she lets out a heavy sigh, and shakes her head. "Anyways. Um. We're meeting them in an hour if you want to shower or anything."

 

"Okay. Thanks."

 

She showers, puts on fresh clothes, and then she heads out with Erin towards the hotel lobby. Abby and Patty are already standing there, waiting for them.

 

"They know. They totally know. They _have_ to know, right?" Holtz whispers to Erin as they walk closer to them.

 

"I don't know!"

 

"Do we say anything? What if _they_ don't say anything? How will we find out if they know or not? What if we just _think_ they know but they don't _really_ know, or what if they _do_ know but they don't know that we know that they know, or what if--"

 

"Oh my god, Holtz, shut up."

 

"Hey you two!" Abby grins at them, and in an instant, Holtz is absolutely sure that she knows. But the instant passes and then she isn't sure at all.

 

"Wild night?" Patty asks with a smile.

 

"Um. Yep," Erin answers with a quick nod, quickly glancing in Holtz's direction.

 

"Win any more money, Patty?" Holtz asks, changing the subject.

 

"Oh, _girl_ ," Patty laughs happily.

 

"She is _destroying_ these tables!" Abby exclaims. "I don't know how she's doing it! I'm partially convinced she's one of those card-counting people!"

 

"I'm not, and don't say that so loudly!" Patty hisses.

 

They talk about Patty's success in the casinos as they make their way towards the restaurant they've chosen for their last Vegas meal, sliding into the booth that they're seated at.

 

"I'm actually surprised that you guys are functioning so well right now," Abby says, looking over at Holtz and Erin. "You were _wasted_ last night."

 

"So, you saw us, then? You saw us...last night?" Erin asks.

 

"Oh yeah. We saw you," Patty nods.

 

"And we were...drunk," Erin says.

 

"Drunk is a bit of an understatement," Abby laughs.

 

"How much of the night do you even remember?" Patty asks them.

 

"Oh, uh, you know...," Holtz shrugs. "Bits... pieces...."

 

"Right," Patty says, and she exchanges a glance with Abby and then looks back at them. "Y’all know what you did, right? Like, you _have_ to know what happened. This isn't gonna be like that Friends episode with Ross and Rachel, is it?"

 

"Never seen it," Holtz mumbles.

 

"Really?" Erin looks over at her. "You've never seen Friends?"

 

"Nope."

 

“Like, at all?”

 

“Not a single episode.”

 

"Okay, forget about that for now, y'all know that you got _married_ , right?"

 

"Um. Yes," Erin answers softly. "We...we know..."

 

"Sort of," Holtz adds. "Not sure of the _how’s_ or the _why’s_ , but...."

 

"You guys... _you_ know, then?" Erin asks.

 

"We know," Abby says. "We were there."

 

"Quick question," Holtz says. "Was Elvira there?"

 

" _Elvira_?" Patty repeats. "Mistress of the Dark?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Why would _Elvira_ have been there?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"No. Elvira...was not there."

 

"Okay," she nods. "Damn. I am simultaneously relieved _and_ disappointed."

 

“Wait, so…,” Erin begins, speaking slowly. “You guys...were _there...And you didn’t stop us?!”_

 

“Okay, okay,” Patty says calmly, holding up a hand. “I knew this was going to come up--”

 

“ _Why_ would you _let us--?!”_

 

“Erin, _listen,”_ Abby interjects. Holtz stays silent, simply watching and listening to the exchange, trying to take it all in and process it.

 

“Look, by the time we got there, y’all had made up your minds,” Patty says.

 

“It’s true. We had no idea of anything that was going on until you were already at the chapel. You already got a marriage license, bought dresses, everything.”

 

“Speaking of those dresses,” Patty interrupts, looking over at Holtz with raised eyebrows. “Holtzy. That _dress. Daaamn!”_

 

“I am not entirely sure of the decision-making process that went into choosing and purchasing that particular dress...but I am questioning it.”

 

“You looked _good,”_ Patty assures her.

 

“You did,” Abby nods.

 

“Anyways. You can just get it annulled if you want,” Patty points out. “We’ll help you take care of it when we get back home.”

 

“Would’ve been a lot easier to just...not do it at all,” Erin frowns.

 

“Yeah, but where would the fun in that have been?” Abby smiles.

 

“I can’t believe you let us do this,” Erin groans, dropping her head into her hands.

 

“I can’t believe you actually did this!” Abby exclaims, beginning to laugh loudly.

 

“You think this is funny?”

 

“It’s pretty funny. Right, Patty? It’s funny.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s funny.”

 

“You guys are _assholes.”_

 

*

 

“I think I’m dying.”

 

“You’re not dying. Put your seatbelt on. The seatbelt light is on.”

 

“But the seatbelt presses on my belly and makes me wanna puke _again_ ,” Holtz complains, sliding down as far as she can in her seat on the airplane, her chin pushed into her chest. “I didn’t know that it was possible to be this hungover for this long. I think I’m dying.”

 

“You’re not dying. Would you sit up correctly?” Patty asks, reaching over Holtz to try and grab the seatbelt herself.

 

“ _Deeeaaath,”_ Holtz groans dramatically. “Death is coming.”

 

“You need to chill out. And sit up. And put on your damn seatbelt.”

 

“Patty,” Holtz says, looking up at her. “If I die--”

 

“You’re not gonna die. You’re hungover. You’re not dying.”

 

“Okay, okay, but _if._ Just in case. And also for future reference because death is unpredictable and could happen at any moment and this is something we should discuss.”

 

“Okay, what?” Patty sighs.

 

“ _If_ I die… I assume that it will be my parents who come to clear out my apartment. But before they get there--”

 

“I think I know where this is going,” Patty interrupts. “Where do you keep ‘em?”

 

“Trunk under the bed,” she answers. “ _Also._ In my apartment...anything that looks like I _could_ have smoked weed out of, I _definitely_ smoked weed out of, and you should get rid of those, too.”

 

“You got it.”

 

“You’re the best, Patty,” Holtz smiles weakly, leaning over to rest her head on Patty’s arm, her eyelids already feeling heavy and difficult to keep open.

 

“I know,” she says. “Go to sleep, Holtzy. When you wake up, we’ll be home.”

 

“Okay,” she replies, letting out a yawn, cuddling up even closer to her, not even caring that the armrest between them is digging into her side. “Hey, Patty?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Do you think Erin’s mad at me for getting drunk and marrying her?”

 

“I don’t think she’s mad.”

 

“Okay,” she mumbles, barely awake. “I don’t want her to be mad.”

 

And then, she’s asleep.

 

*

 

The flight from Las Vegas to New York is nonstop and overnight, only around five hours long, but with the switch from Pacific to Eastern time, by the time they land, the sun is out, fully morning, and Holtz wakes to Patty’s gentle nudging.

 

“You’re drooling all over me. Time to get up. We’re here.”

 

“No. More sleep.”

 

“You can sleep at your own apartment when you get home. But first you gotta get off this plane.”

 

“Get the mothafuckin’ Holtzy off the mothafuckin’ plane,” she mumbles, still mostly asleep.

 

“You did not just… Get up. Get up now.”

 

“ _Alright.”_

 

Holtz lifts herself from Patty’s arm, noticing that although her hangover still isn’t _completely_ gone (how long can a hangover actually last?), she feels significantly better. But she’s thirsty. She’s really, really thirsty.

 

People are standing in the airplane aisle, pulling their carry-on bags down from the overhead compartments. Holtz looks forward, two seats ahead, sees Erin standing up, still directly in front of her seat. She’s in a flannel shirt, her hair down and messy, and she’s looking down beside her, her mouth moving, saying something to Abby. She keeps her eyes fixed on her as the people in the aisle begin to move forward and off the plane. Then Erin and Abby are both moving to exit the plane, and Holtz finally looks away, reaches down to the floor to grab her backpack.

 

When they’re off the plane, beginning to walk towards baggage claim, Holtz glances at Erin, catches her eye.

 

“Feeling better?” Erin asks her.

 

“A little. You?”

 

“Yeah,” she nods with a small smile.

 

“Good,” Holtz says, and then looks forward and frowns. “Uh, guys? Why is the mayor’s assistant here?”

 

“What? She is?”

 

“Yeah. Right there,” Holtz points in her direction.

 

“Ladies!” she calls out, spotting them. “So nice to see you all. How was your flight? Was it good? Good. We’ve already got your bags, no need to worry about that, you can just follow me out to the car, okay?”

 

“Uh. Alright,” Patty says. Holtz looks at all of them, sees all of their blank faces, looking just as confused as she feels.

 

“Have a good vacation?” Jennifer asks them without looking at them.

 

“Um. Yes,” Abby answers. “Is that what this is about? Because we told you in advance that we were going out of town and--”

 

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” she says. “This isn’t about that.”

 

Waiting for them outside the airport is a black van, and Jennifer gestures for them to get inside. They do, Holtz ending up beside Erin in the row of seats behind the driver and the front seat, where Jennifer sits.

 

“So,” Jennifer begins, turning around in her seat to look at them. “I suppose a congratulations is in order?”

 

“I’m sorry, what?” Erin asks.

 

“You two won’t be heading out right away again for a honeymoon, will you? Or _was_ Vegas the honeymoon?”

 

“I-- I-- you… what?” Erin stammers. Holtz feels her mouth fall open, her brain suddenly on overdrive, trying to remember something, anything, trying to figure out how _she_ could _possibly_ know about what happened. Her answer comes quickly as Jennifer brandishes a newspaper, reaching back and dropping it right onto Holtz’s lap.

 

She looks down. Staring back at her is her own face. She’s in that white dress, mouth wide open in a yell, one arm thrown into the air, the other reaching down, holding onto Erin’s hand. Erin, also in a white dress, laughter etched across her face. The lights and sign for the twenty-four hour chapel shine bright and clear behind them.

 

“ _Gaybusters?!”_ Erin reads incredulously. “We’re on the  _cover_ of AM New York?! How?!”

 

“You haven’t forgotten that you are public figures, have you? Local celebrities, one might even say,” Jennifer tells them.

 

“Okay, but _this_ is… This is…,” Holtz says, holding the paper up, at a complete loss as to _what_ it is exactly.

 

“A problem,” Jennifer fills in.

 

“A problem?” Patty chimes in from the row of seats behind Holtz and Erin. “How is it a problem?”

 

“You know how the government has been funding your work? And you know how the government has worked to keep it quiet that it is funding your work?” she asks.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, that hasn’t worked at all."

 

"What does that have to do with any of this, though?" Abby asks.

  
  
"People are _aware_ that the government is _paying_ you to continue your...ghost...stuff. "

  
  
"Ghost stuff, yeah," Holtz nods. "That's exactly what we call it in the industry."

  
  
" _Taxpayers_ are aware that their tax dollars are funding the Ghostbusters. So _this_ ," she says, reaching over and tapping the newspaper, "doesn't look too good."

  
  
"What do you mean?" Erin asks. "How does any of that relate to anything?"

  
  
"Since the news of your uh, _marriage_ broke, the mayor has received _numerous_ complaints about tax dollars going to fund drunken Vegas weddings and other such shenanigans. People are angry."

  
  
"People are _angry_ because we...got married?" Holtz asks, speaking slowly, trying to understand it.

  
  
"Not _just_ because you got married. But because it seems very clear that this was a drunken rampage and a mistake funded by the taxpayers," she explains calmly with a smile.

  
  
"How do you know it was a mistake? They could have been planning this for _months_. This could've been the whole reason we even went to Vegas!" Abby argues.

  
  
"Oh, I'm glad you mentioned that, yeah," Jennifer says, pulling out her phone. "Social media has been buzzing about this. A lot of people have a lot to say. Oh, okay, yeah, here's a good post: Holtzmann's a nice girl, but she's not even girlfriend material, let alone wife material. There's no way that this is a real marriage based on anything other than too much tequila. A+ lay, though."

  
  
"At least there was a compliment in there," Holtz frowns.

  
  
"Here's another," Jennifer says, clearing her throat and beginning to read. "I'm sorry, but no. Holtzmann has been a regular at the bar I work at for years. She’s been coming in less and less ever since the whole Ghostbusters thing, but it’s still at least once every week or two. And she always leaves with a different girl. So here are the options: this marriage is real, but she’s just been regularly cheating on her girlfriend for ages, or they have some sort of open relationship deal, or this is either a publicity stunt or a drunken mistake that these two are both gonna end up regretting. My money’s on the last option.”

 

“Didn’t find a compliment in that one at all….”

 

“Another one says ‘ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha’-- all capitalized, by the way-- ‘ha-ha-ha-ha’-- the ha’s go on for about five lines...followed by ‘no.’”

 

“Oh.”

 

“And another,” Jennifer continues. “Holtzmann gives out orgasms like beads at Mardi Gras but she’s always upfront about her intentions. She doesn’t ever make you think that it will be any more than a one-night deal. I don’t think this is a publicity stunt. I think she probably got way too crazy in Sin City or, by some miracle, somebody has actually managed to get her to commit. As laughable as that seems, if it’s true, and if Jillian Holtzmann really is off the market, it’s a sad day for New York’s lesbians.”

 

“ _That one_ was very nice,” Holtz comments, trying not to notice the way Erin’s eyes are burning into her. It’s not like she’s really kept her sex life a _secret_ , but she’s never exactly been so open about it to talk about leaving bars with a different girl every week or her numerous one-night stands or _giving out orgasms like beads at Mardi Gras._

 

“There’s more. I can keep going,” Jennifer comments glancing up at them.

 

“No, I think we get the point,” Erin says, but then holds up a hand, opening her mouth slightly. “I mean-- um. Is there...did anyone...did anyone say anything about...me?”

 

“Umm,” Jennifer looks back at her phone. “Yeah, there _was_ one… Oh, yeah. Here it is. ‘I dated Erin for a few months once. She was crazy.’”

 

“Oh,” Erin says softly.

 

“Pfft,” Patty scoffs behind them. “Men. Always callin’ girls crazy because _they_ can’t admit that _they’re_ the problem.”

 

“You know, that is _so_ true,” Jennifer agrees, looking up at her. “My ex-boyfriend went around telling everyone that I was crazy _just_ because I set his car on fire. I mean, _come on.”_

 

“Uh. Yeah….”

 

“Arson, huh?” Holtz grins, raising her eyebrows and leaning forward in her seat, resting her elbow on her knee, head on her hand, closer to Jennifer. “I like that. That ex-boyfriend of yours… you replace him yet?”

 

She punctuates it with a wink and at the same time, Erin hits her lightly on the arm.

 

“Holtzmann!” she scolds.

 

“Oh, right, probably shouldn’t do that in front of my wife,” she says, sitting up straight in her seat again.

 

“Don’t call me that,” Erin grumbles. “Now is just _not_ the time for _that.”_

 

“Ummm. _Okay,”_ Jennifer says, a giggle in her voice, a smile on her face, and light pink tinge across her cheeks, clearly somewhat flustered by Holtz’s flirting. Holtz tries not to smirk. “Um…. Where was I?”

 

“You were...about to tell us that we have to say that this whole marriage thing was a publicity stunt and that we need to end it immediately?” Erin suggests hopefully.

 

“Oh! Right! Exactly.”

 

“Really?”

 

“No, no, no. Actually, the exact opposite of that.”

 

“Wait, what?” Erin asks.

 

“Ladies, if the public thinks that their tax dollars are paying for gay-Ghostbuster-drunken-mistake-Las Vegas-weddings, the mayor will never hear the end of it.”

 

“But--”

 

“ _But,”_ Jennifer continues. “Since it’s already out there that this _happened,_ your only option is to make the public believe that this was a real wedding.”

 

“I’m sorry, _what?”_ Erin exclaims.

 

“Yeah. I’m going to need for you two to stay married.”

 

“Stay married?” Holtz repeats.

 

“Yes. Stay married,” she confirms. “Convince the public that this _wasn’t_ a drunken blunder in Las Vegas. That this was a planned decision made by two people who wanted to get married to each other while sober.”

 

“Stay married?” Holtz repeats yet again.

 

“Yes. For seventy-three days.”

 

“Seventy-three?” Abby asks. “That’s...that’s really specific.”

 

“It’s one day longer than Kim Kardashian’s shortest marriage,” Jennifer tells them. “I just need you to be married longer than Kim Kardashian.”

 

“Kim Kardashian? Is that...is that the standard these days?” Patty asks.

 

“Not a _standard,_ per se, but when your marriage ends, we can all say ‘well! At least it lasted longer than Kim Kardashian’s!’ It’ll be deemed as a _good try._ Which is...better than getting smashed and married and immediately divorced. The public will be a lot more forgiving for your _good try_ marriage. Okay?”

 

“Um,” Holtz mumbles, trying to wrap her mind around it all.

 

“No,” Erin says firmly, and Holtz looks at her, sees her shaking her head. “No. Absolutely not. I can’t _pretend_ to be married just for, for, for _the government’s_ sake!”

 

“Oh, actually, I forgot to mention,” Jennifer says coolly. “If you can’t do it, or if you fail, the mayor _will_ be forced to cease all funding of the Ghostbusters.”

 

“ _What?!_ ” It comes from all four of them, all at once, and Jennifer actually jumps in her seat before composing herself again, smiling.

 

“Like I said, people are _not_ happy. We have to appease them in some way. Be a happy married couple for seventy-three days or kiss this place goodbye,” Jennifer says, gesturing out the window just as the van pulls up in front of the firehouse.

 

“That’s it? Those are our only options?” Erin asks.

 

“Yes, those are your only options. Any other questions?”

 

Holtz is silent. Erin is silent. Abby and Patty are silent.

 

“Okay, good!” Jennifer smiles. “Your bags are in the trunk -- you can handle them yourselves, yeah?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, we got it,” Patty answers.

 

“Great!”

 

They begin to pile out of the van, one by one, and grab their suitcases from the trunk.

 

“Good seeing you all!” Jennifer calls out from her window as the van begins to drive away. “And seventy-three days, okay, ladies? Welcome home!”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Sorry that this took me a little longer than I would have liked! I've had a ridiculously busy week and didn't have much time to write, and then when I did have time, I was just so tired! I have a feeling that this upcoming week is going to be pretty similar, but we'll see! (Blame the election, okay? I was doing some volunteer stuff for Hillary's campaign this past week and will probably do some more on Monday, and then Tuesday is the election which means I'll be out late and probably drinking because I always drink on election night because it is a really really stressful and scary time. ANYWAYS. That's my excuse. The election.)
> 
> Also, I'm really glad that you guys seem to be having as much fun with this story as I am because OH BOY, IT'S FUN. And I've got a lot of really fun stuff planned for it, too. Your comments make me so ridiculously happy. And also, please feel free to add me on Tumblr and Twitter and all the other social medias @heykaylabeth on everything, and talk to me and be my friend!!

“Okay. Okay. This is fine.”

 

Erin glares at Abby. She glares  _ hard _ , and she knows that she must look terrifying, because Abby stops speaking immediately, her mouth turning into a frown. She is hyper-aware of her body, and the way her heart is beating faster and harder than normal, and the way her skin begins to burn hot, as if her blood is beginning to physically, literally boil. She turns her glare in Patty's direction, quickly at Holtz, and then back to Abby.

 

"This is your fault!" she exclaims, not really speaking to any one of them in particular, because as far as she is concerned, it is all of their faults. " _ This is your fault! _ "

 

"Erin," Abby says softly as if she's about to try and reason with her, but Erin shakes her head, not wanting to hear it, and she turns, tugging her suitcase hard behind her. Too hard. It tips precariously onto one wheel, and then onto its side. Erin tries to ignore it, drags it a bit, then tries to twist it back onto its wheels. She struggles. They're all watching her. All of her movements are too jerky because she's angry and her  _ fucking suitcase  _ will not  _ fucking cooperate _ with her. She gives up, grabs it by the handle, lugs it up to the firehouse's front door. She pulls the door. It's locked.

 

Of course.

 

It's still too early for Kevin to be there and the other three are standing right behind her. She pauses, stares at the locked front door. She doesn't have keys. She can only stand there. Finally, she heaves a heavy breath, doesn't even turn around before yelling out.

 

"Can somebody please come unlock this door?!"

 

"Coming," Abby's voice calls back, and then she's behind her, stepping tentatively beside her, her keys out.

 

"Erin," she says again.

 

"No. I don't want to hear it," she bites back immediately.

 

"Erin, it's really not that big of a deal," Abby says anyways, despite Erin's protests. Erin spins so that they are face-to-face.

 

"Not that big of a deal?!" she yells. " _ Not _ that  _ big of a deal _ ?! Are you joking, Abby?! Did you not-- are you--?! You  _ let  _ me get drunkenly married and now I have to stay married! How is that _ not a big deal?! _ "

 

She sees Patty and Holtz inching closer. She turns to look at them as well.

 

"And you let it happen, too!" she bellows, pointing at Patty. "You two could have stopped us and you didn't! And you!  _ You _ ! We made a  _ deal _ ! You were supposed to not drink so you could keep me from doing stupid things! And you didn't! You didn't and now we've done the  _ stupidest  _ thing that anybody could  _ ever  _ do and! And! Can you unlock the  _ fucking door _ already?!"

 

"Yeah, it's, it's unlocked," Abby mumbles.

 

"Great! Thank you!" she shouts, turning and pushing her way into the firehouse, dragging her suitcase behind her. She doesn't really know where she's going. It isn't like she has a private spot to brood. She would prefer to be alone in her own apartment, but this is where she is, so this is where she is going to be. She goes towards her desk, throws her suitcase down beside it, and then slumps into her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

She's in plain view and can see the other three coming into the firehouse after her, slowly, silently, not looking at her, not looking at each other. They shuffle about. Holtz goes upstairs.

 

Erin glares at her desk, practically burning a hole into the wooden surface, and she can't bring herself to do anything other than just sit there glaring, running over the whole situation in her mind again and again and again.

 

She got drunk and got married to Holtz.  _ Holtz _ . She got  _ married  _ to  _ Holtz _ . She still hasn't figured out how that even happened, and now she's having  _ this  _ thrown on her. She has to stay married to Holtz. Stay married and act married and she's not even sure what that entails because she can't bring herself to think about all of the details, but she's married, by accident, and she doesn't know how it happened and it's all too much and she's angry it's completely unfair.

 

"Okay, I know you're pissed off, but can we talk?"

 

It's Patty, standing in front of her desk, and Erin glances up at her, and then back down, gives a noncommittal shrug.

 

"Listen, me and Abby feel really bad about...," she pauses, then begins again. "You have every right to blame us for letting this happen. Honestly, we thought that it would just be, y’know, a stupid thing you guys did and then we'd take care of it and then we could make fun of you forever for it. We obviously had no idea that...well, you know. But! We're gonna help you. Since we kind of got you into this mess, and since it'll affect us too if it...goes wrong... we're gonna help."

 

"Help  _ what _ ?" she asks, looking up at her again. "What could you  _ possibly  _ help with? Holtz and I are  _ married  _ and have to  _ stay  _ married.  _ What  _ is there to help with?"

 

"Well, first of all, it has to be convincing, right? You gotta convince the public that this is a real thing. That's gonna take effort on all our parts," she explains, gesturing around the firehouse. "Not to mention that this whole situation kind of...well...it makes getting it annulled a little more complicated."

 

"What? How? What does that mean?" Erin asks sharply.

 

"Hang on, Abby's bringing Holtzy downstairs; it's probably easier for us to talk about this all at once."

 

Only a moment later, Abby and Holtz are making their way down the staircase. Erin looks at Holtz, seeing her for the first time since they were all outside, really  _ looking  _ at her for the first time since finding out that they have to stay married. She looks sad and guilty, like a kicked puppy, and for a second, Erin regrets her earlier outburst, feeling guilty herself if she's made Holtz feel a certain way. But then she remembers that this is partially Holtz's fault, and she doesn't feel as bad.

 

Abby suggests that they talk at a table rather than all gathered around Erin's desk, so they move. Erin sits beside Holtz, neither one of them looking directly at the other, and Patty and Abby sit across from them.

 

"Okay, so, I’ve been doing some research, and here's the deal," Patty begins. "Originally, getting your marriage annulled woulda been no big thing because you were trashed and had no idea what you were doing and that’s considered a ‘want of understanding claim.’ That's how pretty much all Vegas weddings go. Easy peasy, piece of cake."

 

"But...?" Erin asks.

 

"But, given the current situation, it might not be so easy to claim that after trying to convince the public that your marriage is the real deal and  _ not  _ the result of being blackout drunk. And we won’t be able to claim fraud, either."

 

"So what does that mean?" Erin asks. "We're gonna have to get a divorce?"

 

"Possibly," Patty nods.

 

"Wow," Erin says, letting out a bitter laugh. "Divorced.  _ Divorced _ !"

 

"There  _ is  _ something else, though," Patty continues. "Another ground for an annulment that...might work."

 

"Well, what is it?" she asks quickly. She doesn't want to be  _ divorced _ . She wants to be able to just put this whole thing behind her, erase all traces, forget it ever happened.

 

"It's uh, well... failure to consummate," she says.  "Which, well... I don't really want to ask because I don't actually want to know the answer, but...did...you...?"

 

Erin just stares at her, not really processing that she’s even asked a question and definitely not really understanding the question. Holtz is also silent. Holtz hasn’t said a word since they’ve gathered to talk about this. 

 

“I’m sorry, what?” Erin finally says after a lengthy bit of silence, both Patty and Abby looking over the table at her and Holtz with expectant expressions upon their faces.

 

“Did...y’all…,” Patty says again, gesturing with her hands.

 

“Did we what?”

 

“You  _ know. Consummate.” _

 

“What?”

 

“Oh my god,” Abby interrupts. “Did you guys fuck?”

 

“No!” Erin exclaims immediately, eyes wide, shaking her head. Beside her, however, in a voice so soft that Erin barely even hears it, Holtz mumbles “Yes.”

 

Erin turns her head so fast that she feels her neck crack. She looks at Holtz who is staring down at the table, two fingers drumming softly against the surface.

 

" _ No _ ," Erin repeats forcefully, and Holtz lifts her head, turns, and she looks at Erin, all big eyes and slightly pouted lips, and she isn't even  _ trying  _ to look that way which is the most frustrating part of all.

 

She can feel Abby and Patty watching them, but Erin doesn't really care.

 

"No," she says yet again with absolute certainty.

 

"Are you sure?" Holtz asks her, her voice still low, uncharacteristically soft.

 

"Yes," she says, but then she hesitates. "Why? Are you...are  _ you  _ sure?"

 

"No," she admits. "Not completely. I just...feel like...it..."

 

"What?"

 

"Happened."

 

"It  _ didn't _ ."

 

"You're sure? You remember it not happening?"

 

"Do you remember it happening?"

 

"No. But I think it did."

 

"You  _ think  _ it did?"

 

"Yes."

 

"How...how can you  _ think  _ it happened without  _ remembering  _ if it happened?"

 

"I don't  _ know _ , I just have a feeling that it happened. Like it's in my memory  _ somewhere  _ but I just haven't...it's...missing."

 

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Erin argues. "How can you say it happened if you have no memory of it?!"

 

"How can you say that it  _ didn't  _ happen if you have no memory of it  _ not  _ happening?"

 

"Because  _ that  _ makes a lot more sense."

 

"How?"

 

"It just does!" she exclaims. "We did  _ not  _ have sex."

 

"But we did. I think."

 

" _ No _ , we didn't."

 

"But--"

 

"If we had sex, then why did we wake up fully clothed?"

 

"...Oh," Holtz frowns, and Erin smiles triumphantly.

 

"Yeah," she nods. “Besides, based on your  _ reviews,  _ it doesn’t seem like something I’d forget so easily.”

 

She doesn’t  _ mean  _ for the last part to come out so scathingly, but she’s frustrated and can’t help it. Holtz’s frown stays in place and she turns her head back to stare down at the table.

 

“Guess you’re right,” she mumbles. “Maybe we didn’t.”

 

“We didn’t,” Erin confirms. 

 

“Okay,  _ well,”  _ Patty cuts in, looking back and forth between them. “If that’s...sorted out… Uh. As long as y’all  _ don’t  _ do it, then you should still be able to get an annulment and that’ll be a lot easier than a divorce.”

 

“Okay, great. Easy,” Erin says.

 

“This really isn’t so bad, guys. Seventy-three days is less than three months. You just have to play married for less than three months,” Abby tells them encouragingly.

 

“Easy for you to say,” Erin grumbles. 

 

“Seventy-three days,” Holtz says from beside her, her voice flat as if she is simply repeating facts. “Seventy-three days. Married. No sex with each other. Obviously no sex with other people either.”

 

“Think you’ll survive?” Erin asks bitterly. Holtz falls silent. 

 

“Oh, and uh,” Patty says, seemingly ignoring the exchange. “It might be a good idea if y’all...live at the same apartment during all this.”

 

“What?!”

 

“She’s right,” Holtz sighs. “It’d look weird if we’re married and living in separate places.”

 

“But-- no, that-- but--” Erin stammers.

 

“There’s too much at stake here, Erin,” Abby tells her. She’s right. They’re all right. Erin knows that they’re right. It doesn’t make it any easier. She groans, dropping her head into her hands.

 

“ _ God.  _ This is a  _ nightmare.”  _

 

She hears the sound of a chair scraping against the floor right next to her, a few steps, and then Holtz’s soft, mumbling voice.

 

“I gotta, um, there’s explosive stuff, gotta go back upstairs now.”

 

By the time she looks up from her hands, Holtz is already halfway up the stairs, she only just catches a glimpse of her face, and she’s left with Abby and Patty who are both looking at her.

 

“What?” Erin asks, noticing the way Abby’s mouth is turned into a frown, and how Patty has her eyebrows slightly raised.

 

“You’re not being very nice,” Abby states simply.

 

“So?” she shoots back, crossing her arms over her chest. “This  _ is  _ partially her fault.  _ And yours.  _ I am the least blameless person in this situation. I don’t think I really  _ need  _ to be  _ nice  _ right now.”

 

“Wouldn’t hurt, though,” Patty says. 

 

“Well...I’ve got some stuff to take care of,” Abby says, standing up from the table.

 

“So do I,” Patty agrees. They both leave, leaving Erin sitting alone. She sits there for a while, and she’s still trying to pull up any memories from that night, any at all. But she’s angry and frustrated and  _ still hungover _ and there’s far too much happening in her brain to find any fuzzy drunken memories. 

 

The longer she sits, the worse she feels. She knows that she wasn’t being nice. She thinks that it’s completely justified, but that doesn’t stop the guilty feeling in the pit of her stomach when she pictures Holtz’s face as she was heading back upstairs. She was upset. Erin upset her. 

 

She sighs, giving in to her guilty conscience, and stands up, walks towards the stairs.

 

Holtz is working away on something in the lab. She usually has some sort of music playing when she’s working, but it’s completely silent other than the sounds of her tools.

 

“Um. Uh. Hey,” Erin says softly, awkwardly, standing a fair distance away. Holtz looks up, gives her a nod of acknowledgement, continues to work. Erin hesitates, considers just going back downstairs, twists her hands together.

 

“Um, I-- I’m… I guess I didn’t need to be so...rude,” she admits. Holtz shrugs, glances up at her again

 

“S’fine,” she says. 

 

“It’s just--”

 

“Erin, it’s fine. You don’t need to explain yourself,” Holtz says, finally setting her tools down, lifting her goggles from her eyes, pushing them up to her forehead. “It’s a nightmare situation. I get it.”

 

“It’s a lot to process, okay?”

 

“I know.”

 

“You’re so calm about it all,” Erin says. “It’s like you...I don’t know. I just don’t understand how you can be so calm.”

 

“Because," she says, shrugging again. “Things without all remedy should be without regard. What's done, is done.”

 

Erin furrows her eyebrows.

 

“What?”

 

“Line from Macbeth,” she explains with a quick wave of her hand. “I mean, the line itself is kind of talking about homicide, but, y’know, it still fits. Can’t change what happened, can we? Gotta just deal with it.”

 

“Are you comparing our marriage to murder?” Erin asks, a smile playing at her lips. 

 

“Hey, you’re the one who called it a nightmare,” Holtz says, throwing her hands up, and she’s smiling now, too. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she says.

 

“Look, it’s,” she sighs. “I get why you’re upset. I’m not… It’s. I know it’s not  _ ideal. _ But. I don’t know. I guess I just don’t think that it’s the worst thing in the world to have to be married to you for the next two and a half months.”

 

Erin frowns, feels all of her features soften, takes a few steps closer to where Holtz is standing.

 

“I don’t think it’s  _ the worst thing in the world,”  _ she says. “I...I can think of plenty of worse things.”

 

“Like having to be married for seventy- _ four  _ days?” Holtz suggests.

 

“Yeah,” Erin laughs softly. “Exactly.” 

 

“We’ll get through this,” she assures her. “I’m sorry that we have to get through it at all, I know...I know it’s my fault. But we’ll...it’ll be… we’ll get through it.”

 

“Okay,” Erin nods.

 

*

 

“Seriously? Erin, really? You’re  _ reading?  _ We are on vacation and you are in your hotel bed  _ reading?”  _ Holtz asked incredulously, dropping a bag onto her own hotel bed and staring at Erin.

 

“Patty bought this book on the early history of Las Vegas. It’s surprisingly fascinating,” Erin stated without looking up from the pages. 

 

“Okay, but,” Holtz said, moving closer, flopping down on her stomach onto Erin’s bed, propping her head up in her hands, looking at her. “You are  _ in  _ Las Vegas. But you’re sitting here  _ reading  _ about Las Vegas?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Erin, that’s  _ boring.” _

 

“I don’t find it boring.”

 

“Have you had any fun at all this week?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Because you seem like you’ve been pretty miserable for the past five days.”

 

“I’ve been fine.”

 

“Have you even gone to one of the casinos?!”

 

“Nope,” she shook her head, finally looking up from her book. “I’m not really a gambling person. It’s all based on luck and...I’m not exactly  lucky _.”  _

 

“I did  _ pret-ty well  _ for myself on a little slot machine called  _ Kitty Glitter  _ today,” Holtz grinned. 

 

“Yeah? How well?”

 

“I won  _ forty dollars!”  _ she exclaimed. “And then immediately lost sixty, but still!”

 

“So you... _ lost... _ twenty dollars?”

 

“Yes, but the exhilaration of winning was well worth it.”

 

“If you say so,” she laughed, shaking her head.

 

“It’s fun, you know. Even without winning. It’s still fun.”

 

“Well, I’m glad you’re having fun,” Erin said, looking at her book again. Holtz sighed heavily, rolling onto her back, her legs dangling off the side of Erin’s bed, looking upside-down at her. 

 

“You’re not, though.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Having fun.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Are you?”

 

“I’m...I’m...it’s fine. I’m fine.”

 

“ _ Erin.” _

 

“You know I didn’t really want to come here in the first place,” she frowned, setting her book down on her lap. “There just...isn’t really anything here that appeals to me, okay?”

 

“But it’s our last night here and it physically hurts my whole entire soul to think that you will have spent a week in Vegas and not have had any fun at all.”

 

“Why does it matter?”

 

“It  _ matters,  _ Erin. It matters.”

 

“I am perfectly content in this room,” she told her. “It’s too hot outside. I don’t want to gamble. The tourist spots are  _ way  _ too crowded….”

 

“What about prostitutes? We could order some prostitutes,” Holtz suggested. “We don’t even have to sleep with them. We could just invite them up and bond with them on an emotional level.” 

 

“I don’t want to do that, either.”

 

“ _ Fine.  _ But I am going to  _ make  _ you have fun tonight. Whether you like it or not.”

 

“Holtz,” she shook her head.

 

“Come  _ on,”  _ she insisted, sitting up and adjusting herself so that she was on her knees, facing Erin, pushing her bottom lip out into an exaggerated pout. “Have fun with me, Erin.”

 

“I don’t know what that entails, so I’m inclined to say no.”

 

“Why don’t we start with alcohol?” she grinned. “We have a minibar in our room. And it’s  _ free.” _

 

“I don’t want to drink.”

 

“What?! Erin!”

 

“What? I don’t. I make poor decisions when I’m drunk and there are  _ way  _ too many poor decisions to be made in this city. That’s why I haven’t had more than a few beers since we’ve gotten here. I don’t want to do something stupid and end up, I don’t know, losing all my money or something.” 

 

“Okay, how about this,” Holtz began. “Since I have already had plenty of fun here, I don’t drink and that way, you can get as drunk as you want and I’ll keep you from losing all your money.”

 

“So...you’ll be responsible for me?”

 

“Essentially.”

 

“I don’t know how much I trust that.”

 

“Come on, Erin,  _ please?!  _ One night of fun! That’s all I’m asking! I will peer pressure you until you give in.”

 

“Oh my god,” Erin sighed. “One drink, okay? I will start out with  _ one  _ drink.”

 

“Yes!” Holtz exclaimed, jumping up from the bed and hurrying towards the minibar.

 

“Do not get too excited. I’m not promising a night of fun. I am agreeing to one drink.”

 

“Okay, okay, fine,” she grinned, turning back to her. “So, what’ll it be?”

 

*

 

“So, let’s work out the details of this. This needs to be as convincing as possible because...well...you know,” Abby says.

 

“Right,” Erin nods.

 

They’re back at the table. Erin is significantly more calm. Abby has a list. Patty is on her laptop, looking at social media posts about their wedding, refusing to let Holtz or Erin see any of them, saying that it’s for their own good.

 

“Rings,” Abby says. “We’re gonna need to get you some rings.”

 

“Okay,” Holtz agrees.

 

“And I guess you guys should decide who’s gonna stay at whose apartment….”

 

“My place is bigger,” Erin says. “It makes more sense for you to move in with me.”

 

“Okay,” she nods.

 

“And we should be okay with you still  _ keeping  _ your apartment,” Patty adds. “And if anyone questions it, you can just say that you couldn’t break your lease or something.”

 

“Right.” 

 

“Also, it probably wouldn’t hurt if y’all were a little more active on social media the next couple months,” she continues. “Y’know, post a couple selfies with each other every now and then.”

 

“But I hardly ever use social media. Won’t it look like I’m trying  _ too  _ hard?” Erin asks. 

 

“I don’t use it, either,” Holtz agrees. “I think my last Instagram post was like, two years ago. It was a picture of a piece of toast. The burn mark looked like a turtle. I remember it clearly.”

 

“Oh, I remember that, too!” Abby says. “Turtle Toast! How could I ever forget?!”

 

“Well, maybe you should start using it again. You have a shit-ton of followers, you know? Even with your three weird photos posted two years ago.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah,” she nods. “I’m not saying that you need to be posting photos  _ every day,  _ but just something here and there to show that you’re together and happy and stuff.”

 

“Okay,” Erin gives in with a sigh.

 

“And since I  _ am  _ active on social media, I figure I’ll post stuff, too, so it won’t all be coming from you so it  _ won’t  _ look like you’re trying too hard,” Patty continues, grabbing for her phone. “In fact, maybe I should post something now...like a congratulations post or something.”

 

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Abby says. “Maybe I should do that, too.”

 

“Should I use a picture from the actual wedding?” Patty asks, looking at her phone.

 

“You took pictures of the wedding?” Erin asks.

 

“Uh, yeah!” she answers. “The whole plan was to be able to make fun of you guys forever.  _ Of course  _ we took pictures -- oh my god, look at this one.”

 

Patty angles her phone in Abby’s direction, and Abby laughs loudly.

 

“Holy shit, that is  _ so good!” _

 

“Let me see!” Erin demands, and Patty laughs as she turns her phone towards them. Both Erin and Holtz lean forward in their chairs to look at the screen, and Erin immediately feels her face grow warm.

 

The picture shows Erin and Holtz, both in their white dresses, arms wrapped around each other, kissing. But it’s  _ not cute.  _ Erin has her head tilted back, her mouth  _ wide open,  _ gripping onto Holtz, while Holtz’s mouth seems to be getting more of Erin’s  _ chin  _ than her lips, and it’s  _ messy _ and they are so clearly  _ wasted,  _ and Erin  _ knows  _ that they kissed, she knows that it happened even though her memories are fuzzy, but she knows it happened, but she wasn’t sure of any of the details, and seeing it now, especially in such an unflattering picture makes her want to crawl into a hole and never leave.

 

“Oh,” Holtz mumbles beside her. “Wow. That’s… Um.”

 

“Yeah,” Erin agrees, looking away from the phone screen. Abby and Patty are both laughing wildly. Erin can’t bring herself to look at Holtz.

 

“Oh, actually, you know,” Patty says, pulling her phone back to herself, swiping her finger down the screen. “I know what picture to use….”

 

“Is it another from the wedding?” Holtz asks.

 

“Nah,” she shakes her head. “You know, people have already seen pictures from that night. I should show them something different. Ah, yeah, here. This one.”

 

“Oh, I love that one!” Abby smiles, looking over Patty’s shoulder. 

 

“Let me see,” Erin demands. Patty turns her phone around again.

 

She’s expecting to be embarrassed again, but instead, she smiles. The picture is of her and Holtz dancing together. She remembers it happening. They’d been waiting for a train, headed  _ somewhere  _ all together, and there had been some musicians performing in the subway station. Holtz had grabbed her hands, forcing her to dance with her, and she eventually gave in. She’s laughing in the picture. Their hands are clasped together, and they're blocking most of Holtz's face, but it's clear that she is smiling.  


 

“When did you… I didn’t know you took a picture of that,” she says softly.

 

“Y’all were bein’ cute,” Patty says simply with a shrug, pulling the phone away. “Oh, wait! What about this one?”

 

“Oh, that one is  _ really  _ good, too!” Abby nods.

 

“Let me--” Erin begins, but Patty’s already turning it towards her.

 

They’re in the lab. Erin is standing beside Holtz and she has her hands up as if she was in the middle of speaking, gesturing something, and she isn’t looking at Holtz, she’s looking down at one of Holtz’s inventions in front of her. Holtz is looking at her, though, a lazy sort of smile on her face, her expression almost dazed. Erin can’t place the picture to a specific day or moment, has no idea when it was taken, and something about it makes her heart thump just a little bit harder inside her chest. She doesn’t know why. She doesn’t know what it is. She looks away.

 

“So you just...take random pictures of people without their knowing?” Holtz asks, her voice somewhat teasing, and Erin glances over at her, and she just barely notices the way that her cheeks seem slightly more pink than usual. She just barely notices it. But she notices it. 

 

“Thought they might come in handy some day,” Patty says. “I think I’m gonna go with the first picture.”

 

They’re silent as Patty taps her phone a few times.

 

“And...posted.”

 

“What did you say? In your caption?” Erin asks.

 

“I wrote: Congrats to these two idiots on finally getting hitched. Love you both so much.”

 

“Aw, that’s nice!” Holtz smiles. “Thanks, Patty.”

 

“Any time, baby,” she grins.

 

At that moment, there’s the sound of the front door opening and closing, and they all turn to see Kevin entering the firehouse for the day. 

 

“You’re back!” he exclaims, looking at them, his face lighting up upon seeing them. “How was the trip?!”

 

“Oh, it was fine,” Abby says. “Holtz and Erin got married.”

 

“What!” he smiles, hurrying over to them and immediately dropping himself into the space between where Holtz and Erin are sitting, wrapping his arms around them and pulling them both into a hug. “Oh my god, you guys! That’s so great! I’m so happy for you! It’s about time!”

 

“Wait, what?” Erin asks when he finally releases them.

 

“What?”

 

“What do you mean when you say that it’s about time?”

 

“It’s about time that you two got married,” he explains. “I mean, you’ve been together forever now, haven’t you?”

 

“Uh, no,” she shakes her head. “No, Kevin. Holtz and I are not -- have never been -- never were -- are not  _ together.  _ Never. Ever. Haven’t been. Ever.”

 

“Yeah. What she said,” Holtz agrees.

 

“Oh, really?” he looks thoughtful for a moment, and then shrugs, beginning to walk away. “Huh. Thought you were.”

 

Erin stares after him, dumbfounded. Abby and Patty laugh softly. Then, Abby speaks.

 

“Maybe this isn’t gonna be so hard after all.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. In case you didn't figure it out, the picture that Patty posted is meant to be a lil' somethin' like this one  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys. How's it going? How are you doing? How's your mental health holding up today? I hope you're doing okay.  
> Today is a bad day. Today is a very bad day.  
> I had a lot of this chapter written before today, but I really wanted to finish it and post it today with the hope that maybe, maybe, maybe it'll bring some sort of smile to somebody's face, because we are in desperate need of smiles right now. This election has taken so much out of me. I am physically mentally emotionally exhausted. Completely defeated. I know that if anyone is feeling how I'm feeling, then I want to do what I can to make it even a tiny bit better. And if I can make anyone even a little bit happy for even a little bit of time, then I will also be happy.   
> There's probably more that I want to say but I can't think of it right now.  
> Stay safe. I care about you all. I hope I can manage to make you smile.

 

Erin is the first to leave the firehouse that evening. It’s earlier than she usually leaves, but it’s also been an excruciatingly long day. She takes a cab, brings her own suitcase home with her as well as Holtz’s. Holtz still has to stop at her own apartment, grab a few more of her belongings before heading to Erin’s to live with her for the next two and a half months. 

 

She still can’t seem to wrap her head around the whole thing.

 

She sits in her lab, twirling a screwdriver around in her fingers. She’s been sitting like this for a while, not really working on anything, not really knowing what to work on. She wants to keep herself busy, but she can’t bring herself to actually  _ do  _ anything.

 

By the time she finally calls it a day and leaves, she doesn’t think she’s done a single productive thing all day. She goes to her own apartment first, throws some stuff in a duffel bag, then shoots Erin a text to let her know that she's on her way.

 

She’s been to Erin’s apartment before, but only a couple of times and never for very long. It’s almost the complete opposite of her own apartment. Her own apartment is a sort of organized chaos. She has a lot of  _ stuff  _ and not a lot of space to put all of her stuff. It’s cluttered, and yet she knows where everything is. It makes sense to her, even if at first glance, it might seem messy. She has things taped to her walls, her bedsheets are from the children’s bedding section of Target (in her defense, they would not make dinosaur-printed sheets in a queen size if adults weren’t supposed to buy them), she has an entire drawer dedicated to plastic utensils to avoid having to do dishes. 

 

But Erin’s apartment isn’t like that at all. It’s neat, clean, tidy. Anything on the wall is hung in a frame, her bedsheets are a solid colour (a geometric print at most, if she’s feeling wild) from Macy’s --  _ full price  _ \-- and she changes them  _ weekly,  _ and she washes her dishes every night, has a specific place for every single plate, doesn’t even  _ save  _ her take-out containers for future use, but immediately rinses them and puts them in the recycling. 

 

Somehow, these are all things that Holtz already knows about Erin, bits of information gathered over the past year or so of their friendship. She has a general idea of what to expect.

 

“I cleared out some drawer space for you, and made some room in the closet,” Erin tells her once she’s arrived and beginning to settle. “It’s not much, I know, but...short notice.”

 

“That’s fine. Thank you.”

 

“And I just went ahead and ordered a pizza. It should be here soon.”

 

Holtz doesn’t say much as she begins to put her things away, in the spaces that Erin cleared out for her. Everything has happened so fast that it feels strange to think that she is essentially moving into Erin’s apartment, even if only for a little while. 

 

Two days ago, they hadn’t even shared a single kiss. And now they’re married and living together and Holtz is still pretty sure that Erin is mad at her, even if she isn’t showing it, and she doesn’t know what to do about it. If she should do anything about it at all. 

 

And then there’s the part that  _ really  _ won’t leave her alone. Erin seems so sure that they didn’t sleep together. And Holtz wants to be sure, too. She wants to believe her. But she can’t seem to shake the feeling that they  _ did.  _ And she doesn’t know why. She can’t remember it happening. And Erin was right -- they  _ did  _ wake up fully-clothed. It doesn’t make sense.  _ It doesn’t make sense.  _ But it won’t leave her alone, the feeling that  _ something  _ happened. Maybe she’s crazy. Maybe she  _ dreamed  _ it. Maybe Erin is right and nothing happened at all. She wants to be sure, but she doesn’t know  _ how.  _

 

They eat pizza together, mostly making small talk (because really, what  _ is  _ there to say that hasn’t already been said that very day? What is there to say when they’ve accidentally gotten married and have to stay married and it’s their first night  _ living  _ together?) It’s fine. They’re friends. They’ve been friends. Staying in the same hotel room together for a week was also fine. This almost feels like an extension of that, except now they’re back home and they’re in Erin’s apartment and they’re married. 

 

“I’m so tired,” Erin complains with a sigh, washing the plate that she had her pizza on (because she uses real, actual plates for  _ pizza.)  _

 

“It’s been a long day,” Holtz agrees, glancing at the time displayed on the digital oven clock. It’s only just past eight. Still early. But she’s exhausted as well. She lets out a loud yawn. “I think I might call it a night. Should I, um...set up the couch to sleep on?”

 

“Oh, um,” Erin says, drying her plate with the dish towel, turning to put it away in one of the cupboards. “The couch is pretty uncomfortable… I mean, it probably wouldn’t be too bad for a couple nights, but...you’ll be here for more than a couple nights. I mean, you can sleep on the couch if you want, that’s fine, if you want to sleep on the couch, go for it. But uh, I figured, um. I mean, my bed is pretty big, and, um--”

 

“Okay,” Holtz agrees easily. “Yeah, that’s...that sounds much better than the couch.”

 

And it’s true. Erin’s bed is big. It’s big enough for them to both be in it on either side and not touch and still have plenty of room. Holtz unpins her hair, taking it down, combing her fingers through it, brushes her teeth, changes into an oversized t-shirt and gets into bed. Erin comes in after her in a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top, her face freshly washed and free of makeup, hair hanging over her shoulders. Holtz looks away, just like she did every night in Vegas, not trusting herself to _not_ openly stare at her, at her bare legs -- long, _so long_ \-- or at her chest -- no bra, _thin fabric --_ or at how she just looks so _soft,_ so comfortable. She looks away, closes her eyes, presses her face into the pillow. 

 

“Goodnight,” Erin says to her, turning off the light and climbing into the bed beside her. They’re not touching, but Holtz  _ feels  _ her there, feels the weight of the bed shift, somehow feels the heat from her skin (which she’s probably imagining, but it doesn’t matter because she still feels it), feels her there without touching, and she’s so close, and Holtz presses her face even harder into the pillow, forcing herself to think of  _ anything else. _

 

“‘Night,” she mumbles.

 

Silence falls around them and Holtz can’t fall asleep. Even though she’s tired. She can’t fall asleep.

 

She turns onto her back, stares up at the ceiling, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. She lays like that for a while.

 

“Erin?” she asks softly, mostly expecting a silent response, sure that she must already be asleep.

 

“Yeah?” she replies instantly. It surprises Holtz.

 

“Um,” she hesitates. She hadn’t really planned this far. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. Again. Yeah.”

 

There’s a pause. Holtz feels the weight of the bed shifting, and then it’s still. She keeps her eyes on the ceiling. 

 

“I know you are,” Erin says.

 

*

 

“Okay, give me another.”

 

“ _ Another?”  _ Holtz laughed, taking Erin’s glass from her and grabbing for the bottle of vodka -- full-sized and  _ expensive -- _ from the minibar. “This is your third. I thought you were only agreeing to one.”

 

“Are you complaining?” Erin laughed, her hips swaying from side to side as she seemed to be dancing to a song in her head. She was already tipsy and Holtz couldn’t help but laugh as she mixed her another drink.

 

“Not complaining at all. Here you go.”

 

*

 

Holtz wakes up before Erin, gets ready and leaves before she’s awake, before the sun even has a chance to fully rise. It isn’t abnormal for her to be at the firehouse early or for her to stay late. And it’s just  _ easier  _ now. It’s easier to leave Erin’s apartment before she’s awake, to get to the firehouse and get busy and stay busy. It’s easier. 

 

She doesn't know exactly when Erin gets in, but it's around half past nine when she comes upstairs, stands in front of where Holtz is working.

 

"You left early this morning," she states simply, conversationally.

 

"Yeah, I wanted to get in here and work on some stuff," she says.

 

"Did you have breakfast?"

 

"Oh, um," she thinks, trying to remember if she'd eaten yet that morning. She shakes her head. "No. I forgot."

 

"Here," she says, setting a small brown paper bag on the table. Holtz hadn't even noticed that she was holding it. "I picked up an extra muffin for you just in case. Breakfast is very important, you know."

 

Holtz stares at the bag, then glances up at Erin.

 

"Thank you."

 

"Mmhm," she nods, beginning to walk away.

 

"Hey, uh," Holtz calls out, and Erin pauses, turns back. "I'll take care of dinner tonight."

 

"You sure?"

 

"Yeah. Least I can do."

 

"Okay," Erin agrees, and then heads back downstairs.

 

When Holtz leaves the firehouse for the day, it’s earlier than she’s used to leaving. But even though it’s significantly earlier than she usually leaves, it’s still after Erin and Patty have both left.

 

“Heading out already?” Abby asks her with raised eyebrows as she makes her way towards the door.

 

“Yep,” she answers with a nod.

 

“Kind of early for you, isn’t it?”

 

“Oh, well, um,” Holtz begins, bringing a hand to the back of her neck, glancing down at the floor. “I was gonna, uh… makeErindinner.”

 

She looks up just in time to see the smug sort of grin settle itself on Abby’s face.

 

“Oh, really?” she asks. “That’s  _ nice.” _

 

“Yep.”

 

“Wooing her with your cooking skills?”

 

“Abby,” Holtz frowns.

 

“What?! Listen, I’m just  _ saying,  _ it’s pretty convenient that you are being forced to live with and play house with the very girl you’ve been obsessed with since the day you met.”

 

“I am not  _ obsessed  _ with-- that is not-- I don’t know what you are talking about,” she shakes her head, looking away from her.

 

“ _ Sure  _ you don’t,” Abby laughs. “Come on, Holtzmann. You married her.”

 

“Drunkenly.”

 

“And now you have to live with her for a couple months.  _ Pretty convenient.”  _

 

“Are you implying that I did this on purpose? Because I did  _ not  _ do this on--”

 

“No! I’m not implying that you did it on purpose!” Abby interrupts.

 

“Because Erin  _ hates  _ me--”

 

“Erin does  _ not  _ hate you.”

 

“Well, she’s not happy with me.”

 

“Didn’t she bring you breakfast this morning?” she asks.

 

“Yeah. So?”

 

“She didn’t bring breakfast for anyone else,” she says.

 

“So?”

 

Abby simply smiles and shrugs and doesn’t offer any further explanation.

 

“Go home and make dinner for your wife.”

 

“That’s what I’m  _ trying  _ to do.”

 

“Okay, go!”

 

So, she does, stopping at a grocery store on her way back to Erin’s apartment. The door is unlocked -- and Holtz briefly wonders if she should ask Erin for a key -- and she enters to find Erin on the sofa, curled up with her laptop. She looks up from the screen at the sound of the door opening and closing, looks up at Holtz.

 

“Hey,” she greets, then glances at the bag in Holtz’s arms. “What’s that?”

 

“Dinner, like I said,” she answers. “Well,  _ this  _ isn’t dinner. This is a raw leek. Don’t worry, I’m not feeding you a raw leek. The leek will be cooked. And all chopped up, too.”

 

“You’re cooking?” she asks, sounding mildly surprised.

 

“Yep,” she says. “I’m gonna go get acquainted with your kitchen now.”

 

“You cook?”

 

“On occasion!” she calls as she heads towards the kitchen. “Hey, do you like mushrooms?”

 

“Um, mushrooms are fine, yeah.”

 

“Okay, good,” Holtz says, unpacking her grocery bag and setting her purchases atop Erin’s counter. She gets to work, making a game out of trying to guess where Erin keeps certain things in her kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers with no idea of what she will find inside.

 

“Hey,  _ Eriiiiin?” _

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can you come here a second?”

 

“Okay,” Erin calls back, and only a few moments later, she’s standing in the kitchen next to Holtz. “What do you need?”

 

“There’s a leek in your sink,” she says.

 

“What? There’s a leak in my--” she stops mid-sentence, spotting the vegetable sitting at the bottom of her kitchen sink. She scoffs, rolling her eyes and shaking her head, but then she laughs, nudging Holtz’s shoulder.

 

“Good one,” she says.

 

“Yeah?” Holtz grins.

 

“Yeah. Vegetable puns. New. Didn’t even know you knew any vegetables well enough to make puns about them.”

 

“For your information, I know  _ several  _ vegetables  _ very  _ well.”

 

“Okay,” Erin laughs, leaning against the counter. “What are you making?”

 

“Risotto. Hope that’s okay.”

 

“Yeah, that’s, that sounds great.I didn’t know you cooked.”

 

“Not something I do all the time, but it’s a pretty handy skill to have,” she smiles. “Now can you please get out of my kitchen? You’re distracting me with your face.”

 

“You’re the one who called me in here!” Erin argues, laughing. “And this is  _ my  _ kitchen.”

 

“Out!” Holtz shoos her away. 

 

When she’s finished cooking, she separates the risotto into two bowls, drops a fork into each one, and then carries them out into the living room. She falls down onto the couch next to Erin and hands her one of the bowls.

 

“I know you have a nice table and everything, but I’m gonna be honest with you, Erin. I’m a sit-on-the-couch-and-eat kind of gal.”

 

“That’s fine,” Erin says, closing her laptop and setting it on the coffee table, and setting her bowl on her lap. “So am I, actually.”

 

“Really? Then why did we eat pizza at the table last night?”

 

“Because I didn’t want you to think that I was some sort of uncivilized slob.”

 

“Um. Erin. _Erin_. You _do_ realize who you are now living with, right? I am the  _ queen  _ of uncivilized slobs.”

 

“That’s a good point,” she agrees, taking a bite of her food. “This is  _ good.” _

 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Holtz teases. “Hey, question. Any chance that you are also a sit-on-the-couch-and-eat-while-watching-television kind of gal?”

 

Erin smiles sheepishly, and then nods.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

 

“ _ Excellent.”  _

 

She reaches for the remote on the coffee table, turns on the television in front of them and curls up against the arm of the sofa with her bowl. She switches through the channels, looking for something to watch.

 

“Ooh, this is good,” she says, setting the remote down. Erin glances over at her.

 

“You like Gilmore Girls?”

 

“ _ Of course  _ I like Gilmore Girls. Why, do you  _ not  _ like Gilmore Girls?”

 

“I like Gilmore Girls, I’m just surprised that you like Gilmore Girls!”

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t know,” Erin shrugs. “I mean, you’ve never even seen an episode of Friends.”

 

“Yeah, but that’s Friends and this is Gilmore Girls. Apples and oranges, Erin.” 

 

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Erin laughs. 

 

“You know,” Holtz begins, gesturing towards the screen. “I always sort of hoped that Rory and Paris would end up dating.”

 

“Of course you did.”

 

“It would have been the perfect ending.”

 

“I dunno,” Erin shrugs. “I always liked Rory with Jess.”

 

“Oh my god,” Holtz lets out a breath of relief, clutching her chest. “For like, half a second there, I was  _ sure  _ that you were going to say that you liked Rory and  _ Dean.  _ I was about to divorce you and take all of your money.”

 

“Oh my god, no! Why would you think that?!”

 

“I don’t know!”

 

“Dean is the worst!”

 

“He’s the  _ worst!” _

 

“I can’t believe you would think so little of me to think that I would like him!”

 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I know better now.”

 

“I am  _ offended,”  _ Erin shakes her head, but she’s laughing. Holtz smiles, watching her, momentarily captivated by the sight of her. She blinks, looks away, and then she sits up straight.

 

“Oh!” she exclaims, reaching out to set her bowl on the coffee table. “I just remembered! I have something for you.” 

 

“You do?”

 

“Mmhm,” Holtz nods, arching herself off of the couch and reaching into the pocket of her pants, digging around until her fingers close around the small object she’s seeking. She pulls it out, settling back on the cushions, angling herself towards Erin and holding it out to her. She watches her expression, sees her eyes widen as she looks at the diamond ring and then at Holtz’s face.

 

“Is that--? Holtz, it’s… you got that for-- it’s  _ beautiful.  _ How much did you spend on that?!”

 

“Oh, I didn’t spend anything on it. I had it lying around,” she says. Erin looks confused and Holtz smiles, begins to elaborate. “It belonged to my grandmother. I ended up inheriting it. It’s just been sitting in a jewelry box for a bunch of years now, so…”

 

Erin stares at it some more, the silver band with the fine etchings along the side, the round diamond set in the center, and her mouth hangs open slightly, and she looks up at Holtz again.

 

“You should... _you_ should wear it,” she says, her voice soft, and Holtz shrugs.

 

“Diamonds aren’t really my thing,” she says. “I figured it’d look better on you. Besides, it’s pretty small, and you have such dainty little fingers. Do you...um, do you like it?”

 

“Yes,” she nods quickly. “Yes, it’s….”

 

She trails off, and Holtz smiles, looking at the ring between her fingers and then down at Erin’s left hand.

 

“Well, here, let’s see how it fits,” she says, reaching down for Erin’s hand.

 

She begins to slide it onto her finger, and it’s just as she’s pushing it over her knuckle that her breath hitches, and she curses herself for not just  _ handing  _ the ring over to her, letting her put it on her finger  _ herself  _ instead of sitting there, slipping a diamond ring onto Erin’s left ring finger  _ for her.  _ But she’s already doing it, so she finishes, swallowing hard as she sees the way her grandmother’s old ring looks on Erin’s finger. 

 

“Well, would ya look at that? It’s a perfect fit,” she smiles. “Almost like it was meant just for you.” 

 

“Yeah,” Erin agrees, her voice almost breathless. They both look up at each other at the same time, their eyes locking, and Holtz realizes that she’s still holding Erin’s hand in her own and she drops it, quickly, almost as if she would drop something that’s burned her. But Erin doesn’t even react to it. Instead, she brings her hand closer to her own body, spreading her fingers apart, gazing down at the new addition. She looks up at Holtz again.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Holtz simply nods, not sure of what to say. The silence between them doesn’t last long, though, because then Erin is speaking again.

 

“I’m sorry that I was such a jerk to you yesterday,” she says. 

 

“You already apologized for that,” Holtz points out.

 

“I know, but I still feel bad about it. I mean, you’re right about...we can’t undo what we’ve already done, can we?”

 

“Not unless I finally finish that time machine I’ve been working on since college.”

 

“Right,” she laughs. “But um. There’s no point in me being a jerk about anything. It’s easier to just make the best of the situation at this point.”

 

“Yeah,” Holtz nods.

 

“And, I mean, besides,” she begins with a shrug, “if I have to be fake-married to anyone, I’m glad that it’s you.”

 

“Well, we are  _ technically  _ real-married.”

 

“Yeah. Right. You know what I mean!”

 

“Yes. I do,” she grins. “I’m glad that it’s you, too.”

 

*

 

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait."

 

"Yes?"

 

"Why am I doing this by myself?"

 

"Doing what, exactly?"

 

"All of the drinking!" Erin exclaimed, standing up and staring down and Holtz who sat on the edge of her hotel bed. Holtz stifled a laugh, thoroughly amused by the increasingly drunken Erin in front of her. She had taken to mixing her own drinks, putting barely more than a splash of mixer in with the liquor and had then moved on to drinking straight from the bottle with the explanation that it "all tastes the same now anyways."

 

"Because you're a wild drunk and I'm your babysitter," Holtz explained for probably the third time that evening.

 

"Yeah, but it's no fun all by myself," she said, and then giggled to herself.

 

"What are you laughing at?"

 

" _ All by myseeeeelf _ ," she began to sing, sauntering closer towards Holtz. "Don't wanna be  _ all by myseeeeelf! Anymooore _ ."

 

Holtz began to laugh in earnest, joining in with the singalong.

 

"When I was young, I never needed  _ anyooone.  _ Making love was just for fun. Those days are gone!"

 

Erin held the bottle of vodka in one hand, swaying along with the song that they sang, moving so close to Holtz that their knees bumped together.

 

"I can't remember other words," Erin said, bringing the bottle to her lips, taking a swig, cringing only slightly as she swallowed. She looked down at Holtz, then held the bottle out to her.

 

"Drink," she said.

 

"Nope," Holtz shook her head. "Not gonna do that."

 

"Drink," she said again, pushing it right up against her lips. Holtz laughed, shaking her head, steadying her hands on the mattress to push herself away from Erin.

 

"Hey, no," Erin said, and before Holtz could even process what was happening, Erin was climbing on top of her, into her lap, straddling her and keeping her from moving. She put the bottle to her lips again. "Drink."

 

"Erin, I'm not going to drink," Holtz told her, mumbling her words against the glass mouth of the bottle.

 

"Drink!" she insisted, beginning to tilt the bottle up, angling it towards Holtz's lips.

 

"Don't do that," Holtz said, leaning her head back, away from the liquor.

 

"I'm gonna do it," Erin grinned, nodding, moving the bottle again. "You'd better open your mouth or you are going to waste perfectly good alcohol."

 

"Erin, you--" she began, but she was stopped by the trickle of liquid pouring out of the bottle on onto her face. " _ Erin _ _!"_

 

"I  _ told you _ to open your mouth!" she defended herself. "And look, now you've wasted!"

 

"You are, oh my god, you are  _ so drunk _ right now."

 

"Yes, and I need you to be, too," she said. "I'm going to do it again and you'd better not waste this time."

 

" _ Erin _ ."

 

"Come  _ on _ ," she said, bringing her free hand to Holtz's face, cupping her jaw, stroking her thumb over the corner of her mouth to wipe away some of what had been spilled. Holtz felt her breath hitch, hopefully not noticed by Erin, and she swallowed hard. Erin brought the bottle back to her mouth, tilting it, and Holtz parted her lips.

 

"Good girl," Erin smiled, her fingers moving lightly against Holtz's cheek. Holtz swallowed the vodka, grimacing as it burned its way down her throat.

 

"Okay, happy now?" she asked.

 

"Mmhm," Erin nodded, but didn't move from on top of her. "Now more."

 

"No. No more," she shook her head. "I'm supposed to stay sober, remember?"

 

"Oh, yeah, no, I changed my mind about that. Here, have more."

 

"Er--"

 

She moved faster that time, poured more, and Holtz nearly choked, but managed to swallow it all.

 

"Okay. Okay. That's enough."

 

"Nuh-uh," Erin shook her head, taking another swig from the bottle.

 

"Yep. Yes. Yes. Enough. That bottle is not allowed near my mouth one more time."

 

"Oh... okay," she said with a shrug, drinking from the bottle again. But instead of swallowing, she leaned down, her hand moving to Holtz's chin, thumb and forefinger pressing against the sides of her mouth, tilting her head back, and then her face was hovering close, right over Holtz's, and Holtz only had a split second of realization before Erin was parting her lips, vodka falling out of her mouth and onto Holtz's face.

 

"Oh my god, Erin!" Holtz yelled, trying to squirm away from her, the liquor hitting her lips and chin and cheeks, but not actually going into her mouth. "What are you  _ doing?! _ "

 

"I'm Mama Bird-ing you," she explained casually, swallowing the remainder of what was in her mouth.

 

"Mama....Bird-ing?"

 

"Yeah, you know how mama birds feed their baby birds from their mouths?" she laughed. "You're my baby bird."

 

"I'm....I'm not a baby bird," Holtz said, trying to fight the laughter bubbling up inside of her, but failing.

 

"Yes, you are. You're my baby bird!" Erin insisted, laughing along with her. "You even sort of look like a baby bird with all this going on."

 

She moved her hand from her chin and up to her hair, touching the loose front section and giggling.

 

"Especially if you -- here, hold this--" she handed the vodka bottle to Holtz and brought her other hand up to her head, wobbling slightly in her lap. Holtz instinctively grabbed her by the waist, steadying her. Erin didn't even seem to notice as she played with Holtz's hair, moving it around and rearranging it, laughing to herself.

 

"Baby bird," she nodded, then made a sort of squawking sound which Holtz could only assume was an impression of a baby bird. She laughed, one hand firm against Erin's back as she straddled her lap, the other wrapped around the vodka bottle. The intimacy of the situation was not lost on her. She tried to ignore it, though. She tried  _ so hard _ . But then Erin was looking down at her, locking their eyes together, and she stared, and Holtz could only stare right back. She didn't even break eye contact as she reached down towards Holtz's hand, easing the bottle from it, bringing it to her lips.

 

"Open your mouth this time. Don't waste," she instructed before taking a sip from the bottle, leaning over her once more.

 

Holtz couldn't really find another option. She opened her mouth, closing her eyes as Erin leaned in close,  _ so  _ close,  _ so so close _ . She felt the liquid hit her tongue, waited until it stopped, and swallowed it. Erin's hand was on her cheek, thumb moving in soft strokes against her skin, and Holtz opened her eyes, finding Erin still unsettlingly close, staring at her.

 

"Baby bird," she said against in just above a whisper, her mouth so close that Holtz could feel her breath on her face.

 

When she kissed her, it was soft and surprisingly gentle, pressing her lips against Holtz's, and before Holtz could even react, Erin was pulling away.

 

She smiled, and Holtz was struggling to breathe properly, and then Erin was kissing her again, harder this time, sliding her tongue into her mouth.

 

Holtz kissed her back. For about three seconds, before her brain had really caught up with what was happening, she kissed her back. But three seconds later, she heard sirens in her mind and she snapped to reality, pulling back, away from Erin.

 

"Hey, um, no, you uh-- not--no," she stammered, ignoring the feeling inside her chest and stomach -- the pounding, the fluttering, the swooping. All of it. She ignored it, moving her head back and then to the side as Erin's mouth came at her once more, her lips landing against her cheek.

 

" _ Why _ ," Erin whined, her wet mouth and warm breath moving against her face.

 

"You are drunk," Holtz explained simply. Erin kept her mouth on Holtz's cheek, her other hand coming to rest against her other cheek, holding her face close. Holtz felt her eyelids involuntarily flutter closed, letting out a soft whine from the back of her throat, and Erin's lips turned into a smile against her skin.

 

"Kiss me," she mumbled.

 

"No," Holtz said, forcing her eyes open. "No, Erin. I'm not doing that."

 

Erin pulled away from her, looking at her, frowning.

 

"You don't  _ want  _ to?" she asked.

 

"I...," Holtz hesitated before deciding that there was really no reason to not be entirely honest. "I do. I  _ do _ , Erin. God,  _ I do _ . You have no idea how badly I do."

 

"So do it," she said, leaning down again, pressing their lips together.

 

"No," Holtz pulled away. "No, no, no, no, no. You are drunk. You are drunk and I am sober and it's not right. It isn't right. I can't do that."

 

"So, if you were drunk, too, it would be okay?" Erin asked, looking down at her.

 

"That is-- that is  _ not  _ what I said."

 

"It kind of is, though," she nodded. "You said  _ 'you're drunk and I'm sober and it's not right! _ ' That's what you said."

 

Holtz couldn't help but laugh at Erin's poor impression of her and she shook her head.

 

"You know what I mean. I  _ know  _ you know what I mean."

 

"You mean that you can't kiss me if I'm drunk unless you are also drunk."

 

"No--"

 

"So drink," she said, bringing the bottle back up to Holtz's lips. "Kiss me or drink."

 

"I-- what? No!"

 

"Kiss me or drink," she said again with a smile. "Your choice."

 

"My  _ choice _ ? I have to  _ choose _ ?"

 

"Yeah. You can drink--" she held up the bottle, wiggling it in front of her face, "--or I will just keep kissing you until you kiss me back."

 

"That is-- wow. Those are my  _ only  _ options?"

 

"Your only options," she nodded.

 

"Those are both  _ terrible  _ options. Options that Sober Erin would  _ not  _ approve of  _ at all _ ."

 

"Well, I don't think Sober Erin is home right now. Should we check? Let's check," she grinned and then brought her free hand up to her own nose, pressing on it with her index finger. "Ding dong! Uh, hey, is Sober Erin home? No? She's not? Oh, okay." She looked Holtz in the eyes. "She's not home."

 

"Oh...my  _ god _ ," Holtz mumbled, laughter erupting from her mouth. "I have  _ never  _ seen you this drunk before."

 

"That's because I have  _ limits _ . I know my limits. And if I forget my limits, Abby knows my limits. But _ Abby isn't here _ ," she sang, swaying in Holtz's lap.

 

“Are you possessed? Is it a possibility that you are possessed right now? Because I’m thinking that you might be possessed. And lemme tell ya, this  _ is  _ better than that time Abby was possessed, but also not  _ ideal.” _

 

“Yeah. Yeah,” Erin nodded. “I am possessed. Possessed by  _ spirits!”  _ She held up the vodka bottle again, and began to immediately laugh loudly at her own joke, and Holtz couldn’t help but join her.

 

“Okay, that was-- _ heeeey,”  _ she said as Erin began to tip back precariously far off of Holtz’s lap, wobbling, slipping, and Holtz grabbed her tightly, pulling her body flush up against hers, and Erin swung forward, giggling wildly, completely unperturbed by nearly falling, and she buried her face in Holtz’s neck, laughing. 

 

“You good?” Holt asked her.

 

“ _ Goooood,”  _ she answered, lifting her head. And then she was kissing Holtz again, but Holtz pulled away  _ again. _

 

“Okay, you’re really gonna have to stop doing that,” Holtz told her, and even she could hear the edge of panic in her own voice. She was sure that Erin wouldn’t notice it, though. 

 

“Kiss me or drink,” she said again.

 

“I’m not going to do either of those things. Kissing you goes against... _ so many  _ morals. And I promised you that I wasn’t going to drink. So, I’m not going to do that, either.”

 

“But you  _ want  _ to kiss me. You said so.”

 

“Not like this.”

 

“Kiss me or drink.”

 

“ _ Erin.”  _

 

“ _ Holtz.  _ Holtzmann. Holtz. Jillian. Jillian Holtzmann. Holtzy. Holtz. Hey, does anyone ever call you _Jill?_ ”

 

"Nope. Nobody. Ever."

 

"Can _I_ call you Jill?"

 

"Nope."

 

"Hm. _Okay."_

 

“You should get off of me.”

 

“You’re holding me too tight,” she said. She was right. Holtz still had her arms wrapped protectively around her, holding her close.

 

“Oh, sor--”

 

“ _ Kiss me,”  _ she insisted yet again, pressing their lips together, and Holtz was losing, she knew that she was losing this battle, every single time that Erin’s lips touched hers, she got weaker. 

 

“Erin,  _ please.” _

 

“Kiss me or drink.”

 

“ _ Erin.” _

 

“Kiss me or--”

 

“Okay,” Holtz finally gave in. “Okay, okay, okay.”

 

“Okay?” Erin grinned.

 

“Okay.” 

 

She let out a sigh, long and heavy before looking up at Erin again. 

 

“Give me the bottle.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And because I spent about an hour on Etsy looking at vintage engagement rings because I just HAD TO KNOW exactly what this ring would look like (it's my costume design training, I swear) I figured I might as well share the ring that I chose.  
> 
> 
> Also, uhhh. I'm not usually one to ASK for comments, that's not my thing, but it's been a really shitty day and I'm feeling really down about things, and a couple of words would really brighten things up for me. But only if you want. I'm just...UGGGHHHH about everything right now. That's all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys. YOU GUYS. I don't even know what to say. The comments that I received after posting the last chapter were... I'm so emotional. And grateful. I smiled. I cried. I appreciated it more than I know how to express. Thank you so much. Thank you so, so, so, so much. I honestly don't even know how to truly express my gratitude. I really don't. I'm working on SOMETHING. But...more details on that later.
> 
> ANYWAYS. I'm sorry that this chapter took a little longer than I wanted. I had a few days of being an unproductive blob, and then this past week was pretty busy (I saw Ingrid Michaelson twice, though! So! Yay! I love her so much!!!! I need everybody to know this!!! I need everybody to be fully aware that I, KAYLA BETH LAST-NAME-OMITTED, LOVE INGRID MICHAELSON SO MUCH THAT IT MAKES MY BODY HURT.) Ummm. I'm gonna stop blabbing and just post the chapter now because that's what we're all here for anyways, right? OKAY HERE IT IS I LOVE YOU ALL A LOT AND I'M NOT EVEN JUST SAYING THAT, I ACTUALLY REALLY TRULY MEAN IT.

It only takes a few days for Erin and Holtz to fall into some sort of routine with living together. Holtz is awake and gone most mornings by the time Erin manages to pull herself out of bed. She’ll hear her get up, feels her leaving the bed, if she showers, it’s right after she gets up, and the sound of the running water lulls Erin back to sleep until her alarm goes off. 

 

It isn’t awful, living together. For the most part, the routines that Erin had in place before everything remain intact. She still wakes up when she always has, gets ready in her empty apartment, stops by the cafe on the corner for her coffee and breakfast, goes to work, and then comes back home.

 

Holtz is usually home after her. Their third night of living together, Holtz is home so late that Erin is already asleep when she gets there, and only briefly wakes up when she feels her getting into bed. 

 

She finds herself cleaning up after Holtz. She leaves plates and mugs on the coffee table. She leaves her clothes balled-up on the floor of the bathroom after her showers. She leaves a wet towel draped over the sofa, and when Erin moves it, the cushion is damp and cold. She cooks, and it’s nice, but she doesn’t wash the dishes afterwards, just leaves them out on the counter, leaves bits of chopped-up food sitting there as well. She doesn’t say anything. She just grits her teeth and cleans it up herself. She wants this to be pleasant. She wants them to coexist for the next couple of months and for this to be fine and happy and nice. 

 

Their first Saturday living together is the first day that Holtz isn’t gone by the time Erin wakes up. And when Erin wakes up, it takes her several seconds to understand what is happening and why she can’t move. She doesn’t really know  _ how  _ it happened. She doesn’t know who verged onto whose side of the bed first, or if maybe they both somehow drifted towards the middle. But somehow,  _ somehow,  _ she has ended up with limbs pinned underneath Holtz’s body.

 

It isn’t really  _ cuddling.  _ They’re not cuddling. It’s… Erin on her side, one arm extended and pressed against the mattress by Holtz’s head, cradled in the crook of her elbow. Her hair is wild and messy and completely covering her face, but Erin can feel the damp stickiness on her skin and knows that Holtz is drooling on her. Erin's arm isn't anywhere near the pillow. Thus, Holtz’s _head_ isn’t anywhere  near  the pillow. It’s down by Erin’s chest, and she has an arm flung over Erin, resting against a hip. One of Erin’s legs is trapped between Holtz’s, her calf pressed between her knees.

 

And Holtz’s large t-shirt has completely ridden up, past her hips, settling just above her bellybutton, revealing a lot of pale skin and underwear that Erin can’t help but stare at. They’re simple briefs, light blue with red elastic trim, with a repeating print of Santa in a sleigh being pulled by several cats with reindeer antlers on their heads. The date is nowhere even close to Christmas. Erin stares, tries not to laugh, finds it strangely endearing. Her eyes travel over Holtz’s bare thighs, up her stomach, and then quickly back up to the mess of blonde hair on her own arm.

 

She tries to pull her arm out from under her, but Holtz’s head is heavy, and also her arm is completely asleep. Entirely numb. Can’t feel a thing. She tries to move her fingers, but even that is difficult. 

 

She manages to free her leg from Holtz’s, wiggles out from under Holtz’s arm, and then pulls, sliding her arm as slowly as she can, trying not to wake her. 

 

Now that she considers it, she’s pretty sure that she’s never even  _ seen  _ Holtz asleep before, aside from that short half-hour when she had passed out in the hotel bed when they were hungover in Vegas. But even when they were in Vegas, she was up before Erin, asleep after Erin. And that’s how it’s been since she moved in, too. She  _ knows  _ that Holtz barely sleeps. She wants her to keep sleeping. She tries so hard to remove her arm without waking her.

 

The numbness in her arm turns to pins and needles, and she grimaces, pulls harder than she means to and finally frees her arm, but Holtz’s head drops onto the mattress, and she groans, rolls onto her stomach, seems to keep sleeping. Erin looks at her -- the curve of her bare lower back, a few light freckles scattered over her skin, her ass, covered by those ridiculous Christmas cat panties, the way she has one leg bent and pushed out, the other still stretched straight.

 

She smiles. She can’t help it. Holtz shifts again. She turns her head in Erin’s direction, and most of her hair has moved, revealing her face, closed eyes and rosy cheeks and parted lips. She has several strands of hair pulled into her mouth, and Erin wrinkles up her nose at the sight. She wants to reach out, pull the hair from Holtz’s mouth. So, she does. She brings a gentle hand to Holtz’s face, to the corner of her mouth, uses her index finger to pull the section of hair from between her lips. The hair is all stuck together, wet with saliva, and it’s disgusting and Erin wants to laugh, but she holds it in, moves the hair off of her face completely, letting it fall somewhere around her ear. 

 

Holtz’s mouth moves. She closes her lips, sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, holds it, then releases it, wet and glistening. She lets out a tiny grunting noise. Her eyes open.

 

Erin is still very close to her, and absolutely  _ staring _ , and she jumps, looks away, tries to pretend that she  _ was not.  _ Holtz mumbles something completely incoherent, and then she’s sitting up, pushing hair out of her face, shirt falling down to her thighs. Erin glances at her, sees her looking around, blinking rapidly, and she looks disoriented, confused,  _ adorable.  _

 

“Did I… Um,” Holtz mumbles, still looking around. “I got in your space didn’t I?”

 

“Oh, um,” Erin hesitates, then nods. “A little bit.”

 

“Shit, I’m-- Sorry. I’m sorry,” she says, and then she’s practically launching herself off the bed and out of the bedroom. Erin watches her go, baffled about what actually just happened. She hears the bathroom door close. A minute or so later, she hears the shower running.

 

She notices herself absentmindedly twisting the ring on her left ring finger around and around. She's been catching herself doing that a lot lately. She can't seem to stop touching it or looking at it. She looks down at it now.

 

It's still strange. The sight of a diamond ring on  _ that  _ particular finger. And _ that ring _ . Somehow perfect. Somehow exactly what she would have ever wanted. Not that she's really ever been the type of person to imagine or fantasize about her future wedding or ring or spouse (she notes that at a different point in her life she may have used the term  _ husband  _ rather than  _ spouse _ ) and yet when she glances down at  _ this  _ particular ring on  _ that  _ particular finger she thinks:  _ Yes. This is it _ .

 

Which. She shouldn't. She shouldn't get too attached to it. It's not like she's going to be keeping it. She's going to be giving it back at the end of the seventy-three days. But for now.  _ For now _ , she looks at it. Twists it around. Enjoys the way it looks on her hand.

 

When the shower shuts off and when Holtz emerges from the bathroom, toweling her wet hair, she seems to be back to her normal self, as if she didn't sprint from the bedroom only moments before. Erin tries not to give it much thought. It  _ is  _ Holtz, after all.

 

"So, what's your typical Saturday at home like?" Holtz asks, tossing the towel that she was just using on her hair onto the sofa. Erin looks at it, feels her muscles twitch, takes a breath, ignores it for now. "You know, when we don't have ghosts that like to ignore our days off?"

 

"I usually do my laundry," she shrugs.

 

" _ Boring _ ," Holtz groans. Erin laughs.

 

"Well, what do  _ you  _ usually do?"

 

"Nothing."

 

"Nothing?"

 

"Nothing before two in the afternoon, anyways. And then after that, it's all up to fate," she grins.

 

"So, until two, you just sit around and...do nothing?"

 

"Yeah, pretty much."

 

"Why?" She asks, but Holtz simply shrugs but doesn't answer. "You have crazy Friday nights or something?"

 

She regrets asking it the very second that it's out of her mouth, because she sees how Holtz's eyebrows raise slightly, sees the way the corner of her mouth quirks up into an almost guilty-looking smile.

 

" _ Maybe _ ," she answers.

 

"Oh," Erin nods, feeling a twinge of annoyance somewhere deep inside of her. The same twinge of annoyance when they were in the van on the way back from the airport and the mayor's assistant kept reading  _ those things _ ....

 

She's not completely stupid. She knows that Holtz sleeps with plenty of girls. She just doesn’t need to know the details of any of her friends' sex lives.

 

"Anyways," Erin says, desperate to change the subject. "I think I'm gonna do my laundry now. Get it done with."

 

"Okay."

 

"You need anything washed while I'm at it?" she offers.

 

"Nah," Holtz shakes her head. "I've still got plenty of clean undies so I'm good for now."

 

"They're not  _ all  _ Christmas-themed, are they?" Erin asks as she begins to walk away. She only catches a glimpse of the pink tinge spreading over Holtz's cheeks before she turns around completely, a satisfied grin making its way onto her face .

 

Erin does her laundry in her building's laundry room down in the basement, bringing a book with her to keep occupied during the wash and dry cycles. Once it's finished, she lugs her basket back upstairs. When she goes back into her apartment, she finds Holtz lounging across the sofa, spread out across the entire thing, one leg flung over the back of it, and she's in the middle of talking. Erin is confused at first, thinks that she might actually be having a full-on conversation with herself (she's caught her mumbling to herself more times than she can count) until she sees the cell phone pressed to her ear.

 

It strikes her as odd, at first. She can't recall ever seeing Holtz speaking on the phone before. Like,  _ at all _ . She's never spoken to her on the phone. She knows that both Patty and Abby usually only ever text her if they need to contact her. She doesn't know who she could be talking to. Until she laughs loudly, just as Erin passes by her, briefly catching her eye, and Holtz suddenly sits up.

 

"Oh, Mom!" she says into the phone, and Erin pauses. "I forgot to tell you. I accidentally got drunk-married in Vegas and now the government is making me stay married for a couple months."

 

Erin feels her mouth drop open, completely shocked at how casually Holtz just told that to her  _ mother _ . She stares wide-eyed at her, and Holtz pulls the phone away from her ear, and even from where she's standing, Erin can hear loud, bubbly laughter erupting from it. Holtz grins, puts the phone back to her ear.

 

" _ Yes _ , Mom, she's somebody that I  _ know _ ," she laughs. "I work with her. No, not Abby. Yeah, yeah, Erin. Yeah. Oh-- yeah, okay."

 

Holtz glances up at her again. Erin is still standing in the same spot, still holding onto her laundry basket, watching, listening, completely captivated by this part of Holtz’s life that she’s never known anything about before. 

 

“She’s telling my dad,” Holtz mumbles to her. She pulls the phone away again, taps her finger against the screen, turning it on speaker.

 

“Samuel, your daughter got gay-married in Las Vegas because she was trashed!” Holtz’s mother’s voice calls out through the phone. The declaration is met by more laughter, loud and boisterous, and then a male voice laughs out “That’s my girl!”

 

Erin can’t help but laugh, too, setting her laundry basket on the floor, stepping closer to the sofa, sitting down just on the arm.

 

“Who did she marry? Someone she knows or someone she met that night?” her dad asks, still laughing.

 

“She married Erin!”

 

“Oh,  _ Erin _ !”

 

“Why would you  _ both  _ think that I would marry a  _ stranger?”  _ Holtz asks.

 

“Well, honey, is it really  _ that  _ unfair of an assumption?” her father replies. Holtz frowns.

 

“...No,” she admits, both of her parents still laughing loudly on the other end. Erin presses a hand to her mouth to stifle her own laughter.

 

“Should we send you a wedding gift?” her mom asks.

 

“No, Mom, no wedding gift necessary,” she says.

 

“How long do you have to stay married?”

 

“Seventy-three days,” she answers.

 

“Seventy-three? Why seventy-three?” her mom asks.

 

“We have to be married a day longer than Kim Kardashian.”

 

“Kim  _ who _ ?” her dad’s voice calls out. “Who the fuck is that?”

 

“Kardashian, Dad,” Holtz says. “She’s famous.”

 

“Famous for what?”

 

“Nobody really knows.”

 

“She’s got a great ass, though,” Holtz’s mom comments.

 

“That’s true! She does!” Holtz agrees, and then she takes the phone off speaker, putting it to her ear again. “Anyways, um. I should get off the phone now because Erin is here and… Yeah. Yeah, okay, I will. Yeah. Okay. I’ll talk to you next week. Love you, too. Bye.” 

 

She hangs up, looks up at Erin with a smile. 

 

“So, those are my parents,” she says, tossing her phone down onto the sofa cushion.

 

“Your parents know who I am?” Erin asks, mildly surprised at the way they both seemed to have immediately recognized her name.

 

“Of course they do,” Holtz answers with a shrug as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Erin feels oddly flattered. Touched, even. She briefly wonders what sort of things Holtz has told her parents about her. 

 

“Have you and your parents gotten along like that your whole life?” she asks instead.

 

“Yeah, pretty much,” she nods, her mouth turning up into a smile. 

 

“Wow, that’s…,” Erin trails off, but Holtz nods, somehow understanding her.

 

“I know,” she says. “People tend to be surprised.  _ I  _ think it makes perfect sense, though. I mean, do you really think that somebody like  _ me  _ could have  _ normal  _ parents?”

 

“That’s… that’s actually really true,” Erin admits with a laugh. “Are you an only child?”

 

“Nah,” she shakes her head, leaning against the side of the couch, looking up at Erin. Erin realizes how uncomfortable she is, perched on the arm of the sofa, and she readjusts, sliding down onto a cushion. “I pretty much grew up as an only child, but I have three brothers.”

 

“You…,” Erin furrows her eyebrows, confused by her statement. “Grew up an only child but…?”

 

“My brothers are much older than me,” she clarifies with a wave of her hand. “By the time I was born, two of them were already in college, moved out, living on their own, and one was a junior in high school.”

 

“Oh. So...your parents…?”

 

“Are old,” she supplies, smiling. “Mom thought she was starting menopause, turned out that it was just me, taking up residence! But hey, good for them for still doin’ it after all those years of marriage, right? They’re probably still doin’ it these days, too, but that’s gross and I don’t want to think about it. Don’t make me think about that.”

 

“Nobody is making you think about it, you’re the one who started talking about them doing it,” Erin reminds her with a laugh. 

 

“Yeah, that is true,” she grins. Erin looks at her, and she suddenly has so many new questions about her life. She doesn’t know why she’s never considered it before -- where Holtz came from, the people who raised her…. It’s like she knows Holtz as she is now, but never really took a moment to think about her as a child, growing up. And now that she has a tiny piece, she wants more. 

 

“I don’t think I could ever have a conversation like that with my parents,” Erin says with a bitter laugh.

 

“Your relationship with them is better than it used to be, though, isn’t it?” Holtz asks her. Erin can’t recall mentioning that any time recently, so she’s mildly surprised, but she hides it, simply nods.

 

“Yeah. It’s probably the best it’s been since...since I was a kid,” she admits. It only took a near-apocalypse for it to happen, for her to finally be able to discuss with her parents how everything in her childhood -- the ghost, them not believing her, the forced therapy, everything -- had made her feel, and how it made her feel  _ towards them.  _ And they had apologized, now knowing that she hadn’t been lying about the ghost, they insisted that they had done what they thought was best, and she understood, and they finally believed her, and they’ve been on good terms. Great terms, even. “They’re still  _ my parents,  _ though. I don’t think I even  _ could  _ tell them about what happened in Vegas, and if I did, they would  _ definitely  _ not have the same reaction that your parents did.”

 

“You’re not gonna tell them?” Holtz asks. “What if it reaches them some other way?”

 

“In Michigan?”

 

Holtz shrugs. 

 

“Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to make its way to Michigan,” she mumbles. 

 

“It’s easier to just...not tell them,” Erin says, already having made up her mind on the matter. 

 

“Alright,” Holtz agrees with another shrug. She glances towards Erin’s laundry basket. “Want some help folding that stuff?”

 

“Oh, um,” she hesitates.

 

“Don’t worry, I won’t touch your underwear. Or  _ make fun of them,  _ either,” she adds, narrowing her eyes into a glare. Erin laughs and pulls her laundry basket closer.

 

“Sure,” she agrees.

 

“Okay, I lied about not touching your underwear,” Holtz says, reaching towards the basket, pulling a pair of light pink, lacy panties from the very top of the pile of clothes. She holds them up with a single finger with raised eyebrows, a smirk making its way onto her face, and she doesn’t even  _ say  _ anything, doesn’t need to, just makes  _ that face,  _ and Erin rolls her eyes, swiftly grabs her underwear away from Holtz.

 

“I can do this by myself,” she says. Holtz continues to smirk, doesn’t break eye contact as she reaches into the basket again, pulls out another pair of equally lacy panties, this time in blue. Erin wordlessly grabs them from her. Holtz moves to do it again, but before she can reach into the basket, Erin slaps her hand away. “Stop that.”

 

“Stop  _ what?”  _ she asks with complete innocence. Erin tries to be annoyed. She really does. But her smile betrays her.

 

“I’m just gonna do this myself,” she says, pulling the basket out of Holtz’s reach.

 

“I was just trying to help,” Holtz says with a shrug.

 

“Sure, you were,” Erin laughs.

 

*

 

“This way, this way, this way!” Holtz shouted, even though she didn’t  _ need  _ to  _ shout,  _ as she pulled Erin by the hand through the casino. Erin giggled, allowing herself to be tugged along, the bright lights of the slot machines turning into a blur of colour as they turned the corners.

 

They had gotten bored of drinking in their hotel room. So they went to the hotel bar. And then they ended up in a casino. 

 

“Here it is,” Holtz announced, stopping abruptly, causing Erin to slam into her, and they both stumbled forward, laughing as they regained their balance as best as they could. Erin turned, looking at the slot machine that they had stopped in front of. The face of a fluffy white cat stared down at them with the words  _ Kitty Glitter  _ printed beneath it. Erin began to laugh again, Holtz immediately joining her, holding onto each other because standing upright and laughing at the same time was proving to be significantly more difficult than usual.

 

“How do you play?” Erin asks.

 

“I don’t really know. You just kind of press buttons and hope for the best, I think,” Holtz told her.

 

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

 

*

 

On Monday, when Erin wakes up, Holtz is already gone. She goes about her routine as usual, gets ready, heads out, stops for her coffee and breakfast, picks up an extra muffin for Holtz (because the kitchen was completely untouched so she knows that she didn’t have breakfast), and then makes her way to the firehouse.

 

The day is a typical day. Everything is as it usually is until mid-afternoon when Kevin announces that they have a visitor. Erin looks up, expecting to see a stranger, probably somebody coming to report a ghost. So she’s surprised to see the mayor’s assistant standing there. Despite the fact that they’re now government-funded, it’s rare that anybody from the government actually stops by. 

 

“Um, hello,” Erin says politely. Abby is sitting at her desk, looking suspiciously up at Jennifer. Patty isn’t in the room, and Holtz is upstairs. Jennifer smiles, tight-lipped, glancing around the place.

 

“I was in the neighbourhood,” she explains, her eyes settling on Erin. “I wanted to have a chat with you and...your  _ wife.”  _

 

“Oh, um,” Erin mumbles, looking over at Abby, exchanging confused looks. “Okay. I’ll...go get her.”

 

She stands from her desk, slowly moving towards the staircase. She walks up the steps, whatever music Holtz is playing becoming louder as she gets closer. When she reaches the second floor, Holtz has her back turned to her and she’s dancing along to the song playing. Erin watches her, the swaying of her hips and the bobbing of her head, watches her without saying anything for several seconds before she remembers why she came up there in the first place.

 

“Holtz,” she calls out, and Holtz spins around, doesn’t actually stop dancing, but instead, locks eyes with Erin, grins, and keeps dancing. “Jennifer Lynch is here. She wants to see us.”

 

She stops dancing, shuts off her music, and then leans forwards, pressing her palms into her table and tilting her head to one side.

 

“Why?” she asks.

 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs.

 

“Did we screw this up already?”

 

“I don’t really see how we could’ve.”

 

“Hm,” Holtz mumbles, finally moving around the table. They don’t say anything else to each as they go back downstairs together. Abby, Patty, and Jennifer are all seated at a table in silence. 

 

“This looks uncomfortable,” Holtz says in a low whisper to her. “Can I skip out on this?”

 

“Nope,” Erin shakes her head, gripping onto Holtz’s elbow to keep her from bolting away, steering her towards the others. 

 

“Oh, good, you’re both here now,” Jennifer says upon seeing them. “Why don’t you have a seat.”

 

They do, Holtz’s feet immediately making their way onto the tabletop. Erin doesn’t even bother trying to tell her to not do that. 

 

“What’s this about?” Erin asks. 

 

“You two,” she says, looking back and forth between them. “You’re not doing a very good job at convincing the public that you’re happily married.”

 

“What? How so? We’ve barely even  _ done  _ anything!” Erin argues.

 

“ _ Exactly,”  _ Jennifer nods. “You’ve been back from your vacation for a week and nobody has even  _ seen  _ the two of you together. It doesn’t look good.”

 

“We’re together all the time,” Holtz says. “We’ve been living together.”

 

“Okay, wonderful, you’ve been together in private? That does nothing,” she says.

 

“Oh,” Erin frowns, understanding the problem. They’re supposed to be convincing the public. They haven’t been together in public at all.

 

“I’m going to need to you to try a little harder.”

 

“Y’all haven’t even listened to me about your social media,” Patty comments, shaking her head. “Not a single Instagram post from either of you.”

 

“I’m sorry, I just don’t know what I’m supposed to post pictures of!” Erin says.

 

“How about that nice ring on your finger?” Patty suggests.

 

“Yes, that’s good,” Jennifer agrees, and she glances over at both Erin’s and Holtz’s hands, spotting the diamond ring as well as the simple silver band that Holtz has been wearing. “And good job with actually  _ having  _ rings, that’s a-- wow. That’s a really nice ring. Is that  _ real?”  _

 

She leans in closer towards Erin’s hand, peering at the piece of jewelry on her finger.

 

“Sure is,” Holtz says, the smug grin so evident in her voice alone that Erin doesn’t even have to look at her to know what her expression is like. 

 

“Wow,” Jennifer says again.

 

“What can I say? I treat my wives right,” Holtz says, moving her feet from off the table and leaning her upper body forward onto it instead. “You wanna be next?”

 

“ _ Seriously? _ ” Erin asks, turning to look at her, and she’s smiling over at Jennifer who is now  _ absolutely  _ blushing. Holtz turns her head, sees the way that Erin is glaring at her, and her smile turns from smug to guilty.

 

“Sorry! I’m sorry. I can’t help it!”

 

Erin just shakes her head, rolling her eyes. 

 

“Um,” Jennifer giggles. “Anyways… Be more public. Please. Go places together. Be together in the outside world. Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Erin agrees.

 

“Okay,” Holtz echoes.

 

“Okay,” Jennifer nods. “Well...that’s all I came for. I’ll see my way out.”

 

She leaves, and the four of them continue to sit at the table. Erin lets out a sigh.

 

“It’s not like we even  _ do  _ things outside of being at work and being at home,” she says. “I don’t really know what she expects.”

 

“Maybe you should start coming to work together?” Abby suggests. “And leaving together, too.”

 

Erin opens her mouth to argue, but closes it, knowing that she’s right. There’s too much at stake to argue against helpful suggestions. 

 

“And maybe you  _ should  _ do things outside of being at work and being at home,” Patty adds. “Grab lunch together or something.”

 

“Being married is  _ hard,”  _ Holtz groans, dropping her head onto the table.

 

“Being  _ fake _ -married is hard,” Erin corrects.

 

“You have experience with real marriage to be able to compare the two?” Holtz asks, lifting her head and looking at her.

 

“Well, no. But I  _ assume  _ that real marriage doesn’t involve having to convince people that you’re actually married.”

 

“You know, you guys  _ are  _ actually real-married… You’re aware of this, right? Like, lawful wedlock,” Abby says. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever,” Holtz waves her hand.

 

“Real-married doesn’t mean it’s a real  _ marriage _ ,” Erin points out.

 

“Yeah, if it was a real marriage, then we would probably remember the wedding,” Holtz agrees. 

 

“Or, at the very least, the events that led up to decision to  _ have  _ a wedding,” Erin adds, glancing over at Holtz, and then they’re both laughing because it’s all so completely  _ ridiculous  _ and the only thing that Erin  _ can  _ do is laugh. 

 

“Y’all drunk again right now?” Patty asks them. 

 

“No. I’m never drinking again,” Holtz tells her seriously, her laughter pausing momentarily before it starts up again.

 

“Me either!” Erin agrees. “I do stupid things when I’m drunk!”

 

“Like marry me!”

 

“Exactly!” Erin says, and they  _ can’t stop laughing. _

 

“Erin, you’ve been a  _ notoriously  _ sloppy drunk  _ long  _ before this,” Abby says with a laugh. 

 

“ _ Hey!”  _ she exclaims, turning to look at Abby. “That is  _ not--  _ well, I mean, it’s… It’s not…”

 

“It’s true,” she nods. “ _ Oh _ , the stories I could tell.”

 

“Abby,  _ no,”  _ Erin says.

 

“Abby,  _ yes!”  _ Patty disagrees.

 

“Abby, yes,” Holtz repeats, nodding, placing her chin atop her hands and peering over the table at Abby. Abby laughs loudly, glancing at Erin who simply sighs, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

 

“You get a few drinks in her and she’ll try to make out with anything with a mouth,” Abby laughs.

 

“Oh,  _ come on,”  _ Erin groans.

 

“You know it’s true!”

 

“Yeah, she seems like the type,” Holtz says with a laugh, and Erin turns her head, sees Holtz looking at her, and watches as she quickly looks away, the teasing grin slipping from her face almost the second she’s facing the other direction. 

 

“There was this one time in college,” Abby continues, “we were at a bar, and Erin had  _ way  _ too much to drink--”

 

“Oh, god, not this story,” she grimaces. Beside her, Holtz, stands up. 

 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, not really looking at any of them. “As much as I want to hear the adventures of Drunk Erin, I just remembered that I have some stuff that I uh, really want to get done, um… so… I’m gonna…”

 

She trails off, doesn’t finish her sentence before quickly heading towards the stairs. Erin watches her go, and she can’t explain the sudden feeling in the pit of her stomach as if she’s done something wrong. She doesn’t know what she’s done wrong,  _ if  _ she’s done something wrong. But watching Holtz go, the sudden shift from them laughing together to her hurrying away, seeing the way she keeps her eyes fixed on the floor… she shakes the feeling away as best as she can, turning back, listening to Abby tell Patty embarrassing stories about their college days. 

 

She glances at the staircase again. She feels guilty about something. But she can’t figure out what that  _ something  _ is.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And because I've posted reference pictures on the last two chapters, why not another one?  
> Holtz undies reference!  
> 


	6. Chapter 6

"Can you like-- hold that, stop moving--"

 

"I don't understand what you want me to do. You said  _ don't  _ pose and now you're telling me to stop moving--"

 

"Yeah, don't pose, but hold still, just...look natural."

 

"Hold still but look natural?" Erin asks, lifting her head and looking over at Holtz. Holtz sees her through the screen on her phone, held up in front of her, camera open, trying to take Patty's advice and get a picture to post on social media.

 

"Yes," Holtz says, looking up from the screen at real-life Erin who is staring at her with an expression of confusion mixed with impatience.

 

"I don't understand how--"

 

"Here, just," Holtz mumbles, setting her phone down and reaching out to Erin. "Can I arrange you?"

 

"Whatever, go for it," she sighs, and Holtz takes a gentle hold of her wrist and moves her arm.

 

"Okay, so we're just gonna put  _ this  _ here," she says, placing Erin's hand atop her head. Erin narrows her eyes at her and Holtz tries not to laugh as she takes Erin's other hand, folding all but her index finger down and moving it towards Erin's face.

 

"What are-- oh, _ come on _ !" Erin scolds just as Holtz moves her index finger to right under her nostril. She yanks her hands away, shoving Holtz's shoulder, and Holtz laughs loudly even as she gracelessly topples over onto the sofa.

 

" _ How _ old are you?" Erin asks, and Holtz can tell that she's trying her very best to be annoyed, but she can hear the hint of laughter in her voice.

 

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I'll be serious this time," she promises, sitting back up.

 

"Okay."

 

Holtz reaches towards her again, moves directly in front of her as she grabs both wrists. Erin watches her, clearly not trusting her at all, and Holtz barely stops herself from giggling as she moves both of their hands up to Erin's chest, placing Erin's hands atop her own breasts.

 

"Oh my  _ god _ ," Erin scoffs, pushing her away again. "You are-- you are  _ actually  _ a child, aren't you?"

 

"The fact that you-- that you--" Holtz wheezes out through her laughter, "you let me do it twice!  _ Twice _ !"

 

"Well, I  _ thought  _ you were going to be  _ serious _ !" Erin argues. "But you're right, I should've known better."

 

"Okay, let me do it again, I promise--"

 

"No," she shakes her head. "You are  _ not  _ doing again. I will position myself, thanks."

 

"Okay. Position yourself," Holtz nods. "Show me your favourite position."

 

"You are...," Erin begins, but trails off, laughing softly and shaking her head. Holtz grins, watches as Erin reaches up, sweeping her bangs out of her eyes.

 

"Wait, hold on," she says. "Do that again."

 

"What?"

 

"Do that with your hand again."

 

"What, this?" Erin asks, slowly bringing her hand up.

 

"Yeah, yeah, okay, freeze. Right there. Yeah. Hold that."

 

"Um, this is extremely posed. I thought you didn't want it to look posed."

 

"It doesn't look posed, though, just..." Holtz mumbles, angling her phone the right way and snapping a picture. She snaps a few more just to be safe. "Okay."

 

Erin drops her hand back into her lap and Holtz looks at her phone, choosing one of the photos she just took. Erin's left hand is mostly covering her face, diamond ring clear and focused, fingertips brushing against her bangs. Holtz doesn't say anything as she opens it in Instagram, scrolling through different filters until she settles on a black and white one, adjusting some other things until she's ready to post it.

 

She struggles with the caption. She types a few things and then immediately erases them. Finally, she posts it.

 

"I think that's a pretty good first Instagram post in two years," she nods to herself.

 

"Can I see it?" Erin asks.

 

"Mhm," Holtz agrees, handing over her phone. She watches as Erin looks down at the screen, watches her face, tries to read her expression as she reads the simple caption.

 

_ she's pretty. _

 

Erin doesn't say anything. But the corners of her mouth turn up into a small smile. She glances up at Holtz and then back down and then back up again, holding the phone back out to her.

 

"It's nice," she says softly.

 

"Yeah," Holtz agrees, taking the phone from her. When she looks at the screen, she sees that she already has several 'likes' on the new photo as well as a few comments.

 

The comments are all from people that she doesn't know. The first one is nice enough, a simple  _ congrats! _ followed by several heart emojis in different colours. The second one reads  _ so it's real?  _ with a sad-face emoji. The third one says  _ ugh. she doesn't deserve you. _

 

" _ Whaaat _ ," Holtz murmurs.

 

"What?" Erin asks.

 

"Uh, nothing, I, uh...how do I delete comments on here? Can I do that?"

 

"Why?"

 

"No reason," she shakes her head, and in the short span of time between reading the first few comments and now, the picture already has more comments.

 

_ omg. _

 

_ Nope. Still refuse to accept it _ .

 

_ LEAVE HER!!! MARRY ME INSTEAD!!!! _

 

"Aaaagh."

 

Holtz tosses her phone down onto the sofa, staring at it as if it might explode at any second.

 

"What?" Erin asks hesitantly, also looking down at the phone with caution.

 

"Nothing," she insists, shaking her head.

 

"Okay," Erin frowns, obviously not believing her, but not questioning it any further.

 

*

 

"Wait. What is it doing?" Erin asked, eyes wide and mostly unfocused, staring at the bright screen of the slot machine in front of her.

 

"It's... whoa. I...," Holtz mumbled, tilting her head to the side. "You won twenty free spins."

 

"What does that mean?"

 

"It means it... it's just gonna keep going," she said, and they both watched as the numbers and pictures spun in front of them, stopping every so often, lines appearing and linking the numbers and pictures together, the number at the very top with a dollar sign in front of it continuing to grow higher and higher.

 

"Oh my god, is that... did I...?" Erin stammered, her hand moving to Holtz's arm, gripping on just above her elbow.

 

"Oh my god."

 

The number turned from double-digits to triple-digits. And higher still. Erin let out a disbelieving laugh. When it finally stopped, neither of them said anything. They just stood there in silence, gaping at the screen in front of them.

 

“Is this real?” Erin asked in just above a whisper, still holding tightly onto Holtz’s arm.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Holtz nodded. “It’s real, alright.”

 

“Holy shit,” Erin said, looking at Holtz, and then back at the screen, and then back at Holtz, her entire face absolutely lighting up as a grin spread over it. “Holy shit!”

 

Holtz grinned back, and then they were both laughing again, wild and ecstatic, Erin bouncing up and down, finally letting go of Holtz’s arm before throwing herself on her in a hug, which Holtz happily returned.

 

"Holy shit!" she exclaimed once again, pulling away from Holtz but still staying close, laughter still spilling from her lips. "Oh my god!"

 

And then she kissed her. Not like before. Not like back in the hotel room. This was quick, a press of lips and nothing more, just celebratory, almost  _ friendly _ . She kissed her and then pulled away, turning back towards the slot machine.

 

"Do I do more? I should do more, right?!"

 

"No! Cash out! Cash out!" Holtz yelled.

 

"Okay!" Erin agreed, pressing the button to finish playing the game and receive her winnings. "Hey, you know what we should do?"

 

"What should we do?"

 

"We should spend  _ all  _ of this money  _ tonight _ .”

 

Holtz laughed. Erin laughed, too.

 

“Oh my god, you’re serious, aren’t you?” Holtz asked her.

 

“You’re the one who wants me to have fun in Vegas,” she reminded her with an innocent smile.

 

Holtz couldn’t stop laughing, even as she nodded her approval, her laughter would not die down, and she held onto Erin, and Erin laughed, too, both of them swaying where they stood.

 

“Let’s-- let’s do it,” Holtz agreed.

 

*

 

Erin knocks on the bathroom door for the third time within like,  _ three  _ minutes. She knocks, letting out a loud groan on the other side.

 

“Holtz, you’ve been in there for like, a half hour and I  _ need--” _

 

“I’m almost done!” she interrupts.

 

“You said that like, ten minutes ago!”

 

“No, I said it like,  _ three  _ minutes ago.”

 

“Okay, either way--”

 

“Look, I know my whole  _ effortless  _ vibe is really convincing, but it takes time, okay?”

 

“Okay, that’s fine and all, but I have to get ready, too!”

 

It’s their first morning attempting to leave the apartment at the same time. It isn’t going well.

 

“Can you like-- can you just hand me my deodorant?” Erin asks from outside.

 

“My hands are currently busy. I’m not naked or anything, you can come in,” she tells her. A second passes, and then the bathroom door opens, and Holtz nearly drops the hot curling iron from her hand because Erin is wearing jeans and just a bra. She’s just in her bra. No shirt. Just a bra.

 

It's simple. Plain, almost. It's just a simple, plain, dark grey bra with a little rhinestone situated right in between her breasts. It's just a bra. It's just Erin in a bra. It's  _ Erin  _ in _ just a bra _ .

 

And it isn't like Holtz hasn't seen  _ plenty  _ of girls in just bras before. She's lost count of how many girls in bras she’s seen. But this is  _ Erin _ . In  _ just a bra _ . And Holtz feels like she's seeing another woman's body for the first time in her whole life and she's staring at Erin's reflection behind her in the mirror, and running through her brain is a mixture of  _ oh my god _ and _ stop staring _ and  _ pull yourself together _ and  _ holy shit holy shit holy shit _ .

 

Erin doesn't even seem to notice as she reaches around Holtz for the deodorant on the counter, uncapping it and rolling it onto her underarms. Holtz hasn't moved in several long seconds, her hand and curling iron raised halfway to her hair. Erin reaches around her again to put the deodorant back in its spot, but this time, her breasts brush against her arm, just lightly, for barely a millisecond, but all of the thoughts in Holtz's brain are suddenly replaced with just a long string of exclamation marks, and it's stupid, it's so, so  _ stupid _ , because it's  _ nothing _ .  _ It's nothing! _

 

"Could you hand me my toothbrush?"

 

"Huh...uh...uh...yuh...uh-huh," Holtz stammers, all of her cool  _ completely gone _ , and she lowers the curling iron, hardly paying attention to what she's doing, reaching with her other hand towards the toothbrush holder, and--

 

" _ Fuck! _ " Holtz suddenly hisses, dropping the curling iron with a clatter into the sink, bringing her other arm close to her face, examining the already blistering burn near her wrist.

 

"Oh my god, are you okay?!" Erin asks. "What happened?!"

 

"I don't-- I don't know," she admits, completely unsure as to how she's managed to do this, unsure as to how she even had her arms/hands/iron positioned for this to happen.

 

"Are you okay?" Erin asks again, and she's standing directly behind her, pressed against her, and Holtz nods quickly.

 

"Yeah, yeah, just..." she mumbles, reaching towards the sink to turn it on.

 

"Oh my  _ god _ ," Erin yelps, reaching around and grabbing the curling iron out of the sink just as the stream from the faucet begins to pour. "Holtz! This is plugged in! And on! Are you trying to electrocute yourself?!"

 

"Shit, shit, sorry," she says, holding her burn beneath the cold water, sighing at the relief.

 

"Are you sure you're okay?" Erin asks.

 

"Yeah," she nods. "I've been burned way worse than this plenty of times."

 

"Here," Erin says, reaching towards the medicine cabinet, opening it and pulling out a package of Band-Aids and a tube of Neosporin. "Give me your arm."

 

She does, and Erin squeezes a glob of Neosporin onto her fingertip, bringing it gingerly to Holtz's new wound.

 

Holtz stares at Erin's chest. She can't help it. She stares at her cleavage, her smooth skin,  _ so close to her _ . She wouldn't be able to help it even if it  _ wasn't  _ Erin. But it is. It  _ is  _ Erin and she's in just a bra and  _ her boobs are right there in front of Holtz's face _ and she is staring and she can't even stop herself.

 

"Hey," Erin says. "Eyes up here."

 

"Wha--?" Holtz mumbles, her eyes snapping away from Erin's chest and up to her face. And Erin is looking at her, a small, amused smile on her lips as she sticks a Band-Aid onto Holtz's skin, and Holtz opens her mouth, wants to say something clever, something witty, make a joke, but nothing comes out. And then Erin brings Holtz's arm up a little bit further and she leans in, presses her lips to the bandage in a quick, soft kiss. She pulls away, drops Holtz's arm, and turns to leave the bathroom.

 

"Try not to be  _ too  _ much longer, please? I still need to get ready in there," Erin calls out.

 

"I... Yeah. 'Kay," Holtz nods, feeling somewhat breathless and lightheaded.

 

They end up leaving much later than intended. By the time they both manage to be ready, it's nearly an hour past the time that Erin usually leaves. And once they do manage to leave the apartment,  Erin still insists upon making a stop at the coffee shop on the corner.

 

“I go every morning,” she says. “It’s part of my routine.”

 

“Okay, fine,” Holtz agrees, understanding the importance of routine to Erin, and also fully aware of the fact that she’s interfered with most of her morning routine already. “We can go,  _ but  _ you have to buy me something.”

 

“Sure,” she shrugs. Holtz smiles, walking along beside her, practically bouncing with each step. When they walk through the doors of the coffee shop, Holtz notices the way that Erin falters just slightly, pausing momentarily and letting out a soft sort of groan. Holtz looks at her, follows her eyes towards the front counter, the short line waiting to order, the barista, and then back at Erin. Before she can ask her what’s wrong, though, she’s moving forward again, getting behind the last person in line.

 

“Do you know what you want?” Erin asks her. “I can just order it for you and you can wait over there or something?”

 

“No, that’s okay, I’m still figuring it out,” she answers, peering up at the menu on the wall. They reach the front of line before Holtz manages to make her final decision. She’s still looking at the menu when the barista begins to speak.

 

“Hey, Erin,” he says casually.

 

“Hi, Taylor,” Erin returns, her voice just slightly more high-pitched than usual. Holtz turns, looks at her, sees the way that she’s smiling at him. It reminds her of the way she used to smile at Kevin. She glances at the guy.  _ Taylor.  _ He’s young. Probably college-aged. She looks back at Erin. 

 

“Your usual?” he asks.

 

“Yeah. And uh, whatever she’s having,” she says, gesturing to Holtz without even looking at her. Taylor looks over at Holtz, seemingly surprised that Erin has somebody else with her. Holtz leans forward onto the counter.

 

“Hi,” she smiles. Beside her, Erin fidgets. Taylor smiles back politely.

 

“Hey. What can I get for ya?”

 

Holtz places her order and Taylor tells Erin the total. Just as Erin is handing her card over, Holtz takes a step closer to her so that she’s directly beside her and snakes an arm around her waist, leaning her head onto her shoulder.

 

“Thanks, babe,” she says loudly. Erin’s entire body stiffens and Taylor looks at them both, but doesn’t say anything as he swipes Erin’s card through the reader. “You buying my coffee is just one of the  _ many  _ perks of being married to you.”

 

“ _ Whaaaat,  _ Erin, you’re married?!” Taylor asks, laughing slightly. “I had no idea.”

 

“Newlyweds,” Holtz grins, squeezing Erin even closer to her. 

 

“Wow, that’s so great!” he says. “I didn’t even know you were dating anyone!"

 

"Oh, we didn't date for long," Holtz says, glancing up at Erin whose face is turning steadily redder by the second. "Did the whole Vegas wedding thing. We were like ' _why wait?!_ ' you know?"

 

"That's awesome!" Taylor exclaims, nodding and smiling. "I mean, I remember that last guy you dated--"

 

"Eugh, _Phil?"_ Holtz supplies with a grimace.

 

"No, no, not him. Um, oh, what was his name? Robert? Ricky?”

 

“Uh, Richard, yeah,” Erin nods.

 

“Yeah, that guy,” Taylor nods. "He seemed okay at first, but...not  _right._ I'm _really_ happy for you."

 

Holtz lifts her head from Erin’s shoulder, looking up at her face, tilting her head to the side.

 

“Who’s Richard?” she asks, the name sounding completely unfamiliar.

 

“You, uh, you never met him,” she answers quickly. 

 

“Oh,” she frowns. 

 

“Anyways, thanks, Taylor, we’ll be-- we’re gonna-- over there. Wait. Okay. Yeah,” Erin stammers and then makes a beeline away from the register. Holtz follows along slowly. Their drinks are handed to them shortly after, and Erin says nothing to Holtz until they are outside. The very second the door closes behind them, Erin turns on her.

 

“Was that necessary?” she asks sharply. Holtz simply shrugs.

 

“He’s very young, you know. I mean, I’m much younger than you, too, but it’s not so much that it’s like ‘ _ whoa, age difference!’  _ you know? But  _ that.  _ That. Erin. I think you might be a cougar.” 

 

“Oh my god, I’m not-- that’s-- he is-- It is a completely innocent, mutual, and  _ beneficial  _ sort of thing, okay? We flirt a little, I get a better coffee, he gets a good tip. There’s nothing _wrong_ with that so don’t...don’t call me that.”

 

“What, a cougar?”

 

“Yes. Stop it.”

 

“Who’s Richard?”

 

“Nobody,” Erin answers immediately, then shakes her head, lets out a small sigh. “He’s just this guy that I dated for like a month.”

 

“When?”

 

“A few months ago.”

 

Holtz doesn’t say anything right away. They just continue to walk and she watches Erin for a few seconds before speaking again.

 

“I didn’t know you were dating anyone,” she finally says.

 

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Erin shrugs.

 

“You had a boyfriend for a month and didn’t tell...anyone?” she asks.

 

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Erin says again. “It’s not like  _ you  _ tell us every time you hook up with somebody.”

 

“There’s a pretty significant difference between hooking up and dating.”

 

“Yes, I know, but it just...it wasn’t serious. It wasn’t worth talking about,” she says with another shrug, glancing quickly over at Holtz before looking away again.

 

“Oh,” Holtz frowns, chewing contemplatively on her bottom lip. “You talked to the barista about it.”

 

“That’s…,” Erin begins, but then stops. They walk in silence.

 

“I don’t care, you know,” Holtz says. She’s lying. She’s fully aware that she is telling a complete lie, but it’s easier than any other alternative. “About you...dating...and...not talking about it. Obviously you’re allowed to do that. I don’t care.”

 

“Okay,” Erin mumbles in response, not looking at her. They fall silent.  


 

By the time they make it to the firehouse, the conversation has been dropped, even though Holtz is still thinking about it. She can’t help but wonder how many people Erin has dated without ever mentioning it. And also  _ why  _ she never mentioned it. 

 

“ _ Finally,”  _ Patty comments once they’ve arrived. “What took y’all so long?”

 

“Holtz hogged the bathroom all morning,” Erin says.

 

“Erin had to flirt with the barista at the coffee place.”

 

“Holtz burned herself with a curling iron.”

 

“Erin hit the snooze button like, ten times.”

 

“It was  _ three  _ times.”

 

“Maybe if it was zero times, you could’ve gotten into the bathroom first.”

 

“Well, maybe if  _ you  _ didn’t spend so much time--”

 

“Hey!” Patty yells out, interrupting them. They both fall silent, looking at her. “Chill out. Both of you.”

 

“I’m totally chill,” Holtz says. “Like a can of chilled peaches.”

 

“What?” Patty asks, pulling a face, then shakes her head. “Whatever. Okay. Holtzy. Baby. You gotta stop fighting with people on Instagram.”

 

“Whaaaat?” she scoffs. “I am not  _ fighting  _ with anyone on Instagram!”

 

“You told somebody ‘go fuck yourself,’” she says with raised eyebrows. “And that  _ somebody  _ is a sixteen year old girl in Wyoming.”

 

“Further proving my theory that only little assholes live in Wyoming.”

 

“Yeah? How long have you had that theory?”

 

“Since about two seconds ago when you told me that that little asshole is from Wyoming.”

 

“Why are you fighting with people on Instagram?” Erin asks, looking at Holtz.

 

“I told you, I’m not  _ fighting  _ with anyone. I don’t fight. I am a lover, not a fighter.”

 

“Okay, then why are you telling sixteen-year-old girls to go fuck themselves?”

 

“I didn’t know she was sixteen, to be fair,” Holtz says, avoiding the question. She’d responded to a few Instagram comments even against her better judgment. She remembers that response clearly because she remembers the comment clearly.  _ No she isn’t.  _ She really couldn’t stop herself from responding.

 

“I sincerely hope that this is the only time that sentence will ever come out of your mouth,” Patty says.

 

“ _ I  _ am not the cougar here,” Holtz smiles. 

 

“Shut  _ up,”  _ Erin hisses, smacking her arm. 

 

“Besides, what are sixteen-year-old girls from Wyoming doing on my Instagram, anyways?”

 

“Oh, baby, do you really have no idea?” Patty asks.

 

“No idea about what?”

 

“Teenage girls are obsessed with you,” she tells her. Holtz just stares at her blankly.

 

“Huh?”

 

“They are?” Erin asks.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Patty nods. “For whatever reason, they’re all super into...all this.” She gestures to Holtz. 

 

“ _ Really?”  _ Holtz grins. 

 

“Yeah. So all that rude shit on Instagram is just girls bein’ jealous and not knowing how to handle it.”

 

“What rude shit on Instagram?” Erin asks, looking back and forth between them. “What are people saying? Is it about the picture you posted last night? Of me?”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Holtz tells her. “It’s fine. It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

 

“Why didn’t you just delete the comments?” Patty asks her.

 

“I couldn’t figure out how to do that,” Holtz admits. Patty stares at her for a moment.

 

“You...couldn’t…? You’re like, an  _ actual  _ genius, but you couldn’t figure out how to delete comments on Instagram?”

 

“It confused me.”

 

“Will you please tell me what people were saying?” Erin begs.

 

“No,” Holtz says simply.

 

“Listen, I have an idea,” Patty continues, paying no attention to Erin. “Why don’t you give me your Instagram information and I can weed out the bad comments and delete them so you don’t even have to see them.”

 

“Okay,” Holtz nods, agreeing easily. 

 

“What did it say?” Erin asks again, actually whining this time. Holtz turns to her, looks her in the eye, opens her mouth to say something, then closes it, pivoting on one foot towards the direction of the staircase.

 

“I got stuff I gotta do!” she calls out.

 

She heads upstairs to busy herself with her current project. And she stays busy, completely losing herself in her work. It isn’t until much later that Abby asks for her to come downstairs and she does.

 

“Kevin just showed me this email that Jennifer Lynch sent to us,” Abby says, gesturing towards Kevin’s reception area. Erin stands beside Holtz and they glance quickly at each other before following Abby, who points at the computer screen. Holtz and Erin both lean down together, peering at the screen and at the email from Jennifer.

 

The subject line of the email is simply:  _???????????? _

 

While the message reads:  _ Really? This is how they’re going to see you together for the first time? TRY HARDER! _

 

Attached to the email are two pictures and Holtz’s eyes widen as she realizes that they are photographs of her and Erin from that very morning. The first one is right outside of the coffee shop and Erin is glaring at Holtz while Holtz has her mouth open, saying something, not looking entirely happy herself. The second photograph shows them walking, Erin slightly ahead of Holtz, her head down, hair mostly covering her face, while Holtz trails slightly behind, frowning, looking hurt and upset. 

 

The pictures are unflattering. Unsettling, as well, because their very existence is mildly disturbing. But the pictures do not show a happily married couple at all. They show two people who seem to be thoroughly annoyed with each other's company. Even if that isn’t the case, that’s exactly what it looks like.

 

“How in the…?” Erin mumbles, eyes glued to the screen. “Who  _ took  _ these?!”

 

“Stuff like this already existed,” Abby says with a sigh. “But I imagine it’s gonna be happening a lot more now, especially to the two of you with this whole...thing.”

 

“There are more pictures like this?” Holtz asks, looking up at her. She nods.

 

“Yeah. Most of the pictures are of us after busts, but there’s a lot of stuff like this, too. There are entire blogs dedicated to stuff like this.”

 

“That’s so weird,” Erin says with a frown. 

 

“But guys, um, Jennifer kind of has a point…,” Abby continues hesitantly. “Those pictures aren’t...they don’t… did ya have a rough morning?”

 

“Oh, you know,” Holtz shrugs casually. “Second-degree burns, bathroom squabbles, baristas named Taylor, exes named Richard--”

 

“Richard?” Abby asks, raising her eyebrows and looking at Erin. “Did you run into Richard?”

 

“No,” Erin shakes her head.

 

“ _ You _ know Richard?” Holtz asks Abby.

 

“I mean, I never met the guy, but I obviously know  _ of  _ him, yeah. Why?”

 

“No reason.”

 

“What does Richard have to do with--”

 

“ _ Nothing _ ,” Erin interrupts. “He has nothing to do with anything. Can we stop talking about him?”

 

“Fine by me,” Holtz agrees.

 

“Okay,” Abby says. “Um. Anyways. Do you guys think you can  _ not  _ look like you want to strangle each other next time you’re out and about?”

 

“Yeah,” Erin says.

 

“We’ll see,” Holtz shrugs. 

 

“Oh, hold on,” Abby mumbles, looking at the computer screen. “Jennifer just sent another email.”

 

“Is it  _ more  _ pictures of us?” Erin asks. “Because I highly doubt they’ll be any less unflattering than the first ones.”

 

“No, no, it’s…,” she says, reading the words on the screen. “She says that she pulled some strings and got you two a reservation at some fancy restaurant on Friday night.”

 

“What?” Erin asks, and Abby steps aside, lets her read the email herself. Holtz peers over Erin’s shoulder, only reading a few words of it. 

 

_ Since you are both awful at this, I have decided to step in and help… _

 

_...You WILL be seen and likely photographed. Don’t mess this up. _

 

“So...I guess we have a date on Friday,” Holtz says, looking over at Erin. She looks back at her.

 

“Yeah,” she nods. “I guess we do.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Hi! Hello! I am bringing you a chapter that is nearly twice the length of the average chapter. And I hope you enjoy it! And I hope that you will be patient with me because I'm not entirely sure when I will be updating again! Becaaauuuse, right now this is my favourite story that I'm working on so it's my top priority, BUT I am shifting it down on my Priority List for a little while because I have a holiday fic that I really wanna bang out, as well as some... _other_...things... _*cough*adalovelacepartthree*cough*_. Sooo. I hope that you will forgive me and be patient! Thank you and I adore you all!

Mornings don’t get easier. Erin’s usual morning routine is completely thrown off by having to get ready at the same time as Holtz, and she’s hopeful that somehow, at some point they will fall into some kind of rhythm and figure out how to work around each other and with each other, but for the time being, it’s all just kind of messy. They’re late to work the next two days in a row.

 

The third day that they’re late to work is also the day that they receive a call about a ghost in an old building uptown. Erin and Holtz have barely even been at the firehouse for an hour before all four of them are heading out again, jumpsuits on, car loaded up.

 

It’s a fairly routine bust and it doesn’t take them long to capture the ghost with just minimal slime on each of them, and when they exit the building, stepping outside into the bright sunlight, Erin is taken aback by the  _ amount of people  _ standing outside. And sure, there are almost  _ always  _ people standing outside when they’ve finished a ghost bust. That’s normal. But there haven’t been  _ this  _ many people since they first started doing this. 

 

Erin glances at the other three. They all look just as dumbfounded as she feels. 

 

“Excuse me,” a person standing along the side shouts out. “Is it true that your sham of a marriage was funded for by the taxpayers?”

 

“What the…,” Erin hears Abby mumble beside her.

 

“I don’t support gay marriage!” another person shouts out. “Financially or otherwise!” 

 

Other people yell out other things, but they all mix together and it’s just noise. Erin looks around them with wide eyes. She notices that not everybody there looks angry, even though those are the ones she focuses on the most. And there are a lot of phones out and up, clearly taking pictures of them. 

 

“Kiss her.”

 

It’s Patty, standing between Erin and Holtz, whispering just loud enough for the both of them to hear it, and then she’s moving around to the other side of Holtz so that she and Erin are right beside each other. 

 

“What?” Erin asks, almost panicked, looking towards Patty, and Patty looks back, makes a tiny, barely noticeable gesture with her hand towards the crowd, raises her eyebrows, nods her head towards Holtz. And then Erin looks at Holtz, who is already looking at her, and she looks slightly panicked, too, her eyes wide, quickly darting around at their surroundings before landing back on Erin’s face. 

 

Holtz opens her mouth as if to say something, eyes locked with Erin’s, but she doesn’t say anything. She tilts her head to the side, and then her lips move, mouthing something to Erin.

 

“ _ I’m sorry _ .”

 

They both know that they have to do it. Erin wants to let Holtz know that it’s okay, that she understands the necessity of it, but before she can, Holtz is stepping towards her, and her hand is on her waist, and she’s leaning in close to her.

 

It all happens very quickly. Which makes sense because it’s not like there’s a whole lot of time to stand around and discuss things. Holtz’s hand is on her waist, pulling her closer to her, and then her other hand is on her cheek, and their bodies are pressed together, and she feels Holtz’s breath on her face, smells her shampoo mixing with the scent of her hairspray, and then soft lips are touching hers and she grips onto Holtz’s arm, and she hears the noises around her -- cheers mixed with other yelling -- but she doesn’t really pay attention to it because. Because. 

 

Holtz’s lips are on hers and they’re  _ so soft,  _ and she’s kissing her. She’s kissing her. And it’s nice. It’s  _ nice.  _ And she has hazy, blurry, foggy, scattered memories of kissing her before. She knows that it’s happened before, but she doesn’t remember it well enough to be able to compare it to this. This. Soft, soft lips. And a gentle thumb stroking against her cheek. And it’s.

 

Nice.

 

It’s nice. It’s nice, and then it’s over. Holtz pulls away from her, her hand lingering on her cheek just a little bit longer, and her eyes look up at Erin’s, stay there for a millisecond before she pulls her hand away, looks away, turns away. She looks out towards the crowd of people, and she grins. And Erin smiles, too, following her lead. Because they’re supposed to be a happy, married couple. That wasn’t supposed to be their first sober kiss. This isn’t supposed to be an awkward situation. And Erin isn’t supposed to be struggling to catch her breath. Because they’re married and happy and they’re supposed to look married and happy, and Erin glances at Holtz, looks down, sees her hand just hanging by her side, and she takes a deep breath, steps closer, slips her hand into Holtz’s.

 

Holtz looks at her again, looks at her for longer than a fleeting moment this time, gives her a genuine smile and squeezes her hand as they walk towards the car. They break apart once they reach it, Holtz opening the back to put their gear away. Erin pulls off her proton pack, handing it over to be put up, and then heads to get into the car. She feels slightly dazed, disoriented, and it must show on her face because when Patty slides into the back seat beside her, she looks at her.

 

“You okay?” she asks. Erin nods, not really looking in her direction.

 

“Yeah,” she answers softly.

 

“I’m sorry, man,” Patty says. “It was gonna have to happen at some point, though.”

 

“Hm?” Erin asks, finally glancing over at her.

 

“Kissing. In front of everyone, y’know….”

 

“Oh,” she mumbles, then shakes her head. “No, that’s-- yeah, no, it’s um... It’s just, um.” She gestures out the car window at the crowd of people, and she’s not really saying anything substantial, but Patty nods, seems to understand and least some part of what she’s trying to get across.

 

“Alright.”

 

*

 

If the lights of the casino seemed bright and blurred as they sped past them, it was nothing compared to what it was like outside. And maybe it wasn't so much that the lights were _brighter_ or if it was just because they were _bigger_ and there were so many _more_ of them, and they didn't even know where they were going, they were just walking. Fast. Probably too fast for having no clue where they were headed.

 

But their hands were clasped together and sometimes Erin was in the lead, pulling Holtz along, and sometimes it would switch, Holtz ahead of Erin, tugging on her hand. And they kept laughing, gasping out question about  _ what the fuck _ they were doing, which would just lead to more laughing because they _ didn't have a fucking clue _ . But they kept going.  _ Somewhere _ .

 

They passed a building with a line waiting outside of a door, behind a velvet rope. The bouncer by the door opened it to let two people inside, and loud music and flashing lights spilled out before quickly being shut away again by the door.

 

" _ Ooh _ , what's going on in  _ there _ ?" Erin asked even as they continued to pass it. Holtz shrugged, glancing back and then pausing, noticing a row of event posters along a wall.

 

"Some kind of party," she said, needing to squint to see anything clearly. She scanned the posters, stepping a bit closer, finally finding the one with that day's date on it. She pointed to it. "It's a White Party."

 

"A...a  _ what _ ?" Erin asked, narrowing her eyes in confusion.

 

"A White Party," Holtz repeated. Erin stared at her silently, her mouth falling open slightly.

 

"Oh...oh my  _ god _ ," she said, sounding absolutely scandalized. "They can...they can  _ do  _ that?!"

 

"What?"

 

"They-- that's-- that's _ legal?! _ "

 

"Erin, what are--" Holtz began, peering at Erin and the look of horror on her face before she started to laugh. Loudly. Wheezing a bit and needing to place her hand on the wall to hold herself up. She still doubled over, her free hand clutching her stomach as she practically screamed with laughter.

 

_ "What?! _ " Erin asked.

 

"Erin, it's-- it's--" Holtz tried to get out. "It's-- White as in-- as in-- you  _ wear  _ white. White  _ clothes. White. Clothes. _ "

 

"Oh," Erin mumbled, brows furrowed until she processed the information and then she began to laugh as well. " _ Oh!" _

 

" _ Oh my god _ ! You thought--?!"

 

"Well, it isn't very clear!"

 

"You-- you-- you were  _ so _ offended!"

 

"Well, _ yeah!" _ she laughed. "I thought-- oh my  _ god _ . I was so confused why you were acting so  _ normal  _ about it!"

 

"Oh my god. Oh my  _ god _ ," Holtz continued to laugh, her sides aching.

 

"I was about to go in there and start beating people up."

 

"I would-- oh my god, I would  _ love  _ to see you beat somebody up."

 

"What, you don't think I could?" Erin asked, raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms over her chest.

 

"No, I  _ know  _ you could. And that's why I would love to see it," Holtz told her. "It would be... shit. It would be  _ hot _ ."

 

"Yeah?" Erin grinned.

 

"Yeah," she nodded. " _ God _ , yeah. Shit. If I got to witness you beat somebody up -- assuming they deserved it, of course -- I would... I don't even know. I would probably drop down on one knee and ask for your bruised and bloodied hand in marriage  _ right then and there." _

 

Erin laughed, reaching out towards Holtz, grabbing onto her arm. They both laughed, Erin stumbling forward a bit, gripping onto Holtz more tightly. 

 

“We should go. To the party thing. The  _ not _ -racist party thing,” Erin said, still giggling a bit. 

 

“The cover charge is a hundred dollars each,” Holtz said, pointing at the poster. “And neither one of us is wearing white.”

 

"Yeah? So?" Erin smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "And we have a whole bunch of cash just  _ begging  _ to be spent. We can go shopping. I want to  _ dance _ !"

 

"You are out of control and I am  _ loving  _ it."

 

“Is that a yes?”

 

“Oh, yeah. That’s a yes.”

 

*

 

Jennifer sends an email commending them on their good thinking with the kiss in front of the crowd. She also attaches photos to the email, but Erin doesn’t look at them. She doesn’t think that she needs to. 

 

She's at home, sitting on her sofa, and she can hear Holtz moving around in the kitchen. They haven't discussed what happened. The whole kissing thing. Which is fine. It's fine. It's not like there's really anything to discuss. They did what they had to do and now it's over and there's no reason to talk about, and it's fine. It's totally fine because Erin doesn't really know what she would say about it anyways, and it's fine. It's  _ fine _ . They've just carried on with their day as per usual. And now they're at home, and Erin is on the sofa and Holtz is in the kitchen and everything is fine. They kissed. Sober. In front of people --  _ so many people _ . And everything is exactly the same as it has been.

 

Erin's cell phone begins to buzz loudly against the surface of the coffee table. She reaches for it, picking it up and looking at the screen, and then she freezes. It's her mother.

 

Her mother doesn't often call her in the middle of the week.

 

"Hello?" Erin answers.

 

"Erin, sweetie, hi," her mother says.

 

"Um, hi. Hi, Mom."

 

"How are you?" she asks, and it's all very casual, very normal.

 

"I'm...I'm fine. I'm doing fine. How are you?"

 

"Oh, I'm alright," she says. "I just haven't talked to you in a while and I thought I would give you a call."

 

"Oh. Um. Yeah. Yeah."

 

"And, you know, the  _ funniest  _ thing happened today!"

 

"Oh? What... what happened?"

 

"Well, I was outside and I was in the garden-- did you get the email I sent you last week? Or was it the week before? I sent you an email. The hydrangeas are doing so well this year and I sent you a picture. Did you see it?"

 

"Yeah, Mom, I saw it. They look great," she says.

 

"Well,  _ anyways _ ," she continues. "I was outside and you remember Georgina, right? Our neighbour, Georgina?"

 

"Yeah, I remember her."

 

"Well her daughter is visiting home from college. Can you believe her daughter is already in  _ college? _ She goes to NYU."

 

"Oh, that's...great," Erin comments unsure as to the importance of what her mom is telling her.

 

"Yeah, so, her daughter is here, and I saw her when I was outside, so of course I said hello, and I asked her how school was going, and I asked her how she was liking living in New York, and I mentioned  _ you _ , and then  _ she  _ told me to tell you congratulations from her."

 

Erin feels her stomach drop.

 

"So of course, I asked her what for. At first I thought that maybe she meant what happened last year with the whole  _ thing _ , but then I realized that I'd seen her quite a few times since then so it didn't make much sense for her to only be sending her congratulations _now_. And she said... do you know what she said?"

 

"Um...," she mumbles weakly. "No?"

 

"She said that she saw that you had gotten  _ married _ ! Now, at first I laughed because surely,  _ surely  _ my Erin wouldn't have gotten  _ married  _ without telling me. Because what  _ daughter  _ would  _ get married _ without even  _ telling their own mother?" _

 

"Mom..."

 

"But Georgina's daughter was just _ so sure,  _ she kept saying how  _ cool  _ it was, and I... I didn't know what to do! So do you know what I did?"

 

"I, uh..."

 

"I just played along, pretended like I knew exactly what she was talking about, like it wasn't news to me that  _ my daughter had gotten married." _

 

"Mom."

 

"And then I went inside and I went on the internet and I got on the Google and... Erin."

 

"Mom."

 

"You got married."

 

Erin doesn't say anything for a moment. She's surprised by the tone of her mother's voice. Where she expected anger, there is none. Instead, she sounds sad. And hurt.  


 

"Yeah," she finally responds. "Yeah, Mom. I... I got married."

 

"Two weeks ago."

 

"Yes."

 

" _ Why _ didn't you tell me?"

 

She doesn't know how to answer. She glances over towards the kitchen, notices Holtz leaning against the wall, watching her curiously. Erin lets out a soft sigh, opens her mouth to say something, but her mother begins to speak again before she can.

 

"Is it because... Erin, sweetie, were you afraid to tell me that you were with a woman?"

 

"I..."

 

"Because...you know that your dad and I both love you no matter what. You can be with women if that's what you want! We'll still love you."

 

"I...," she begins, too surprised to be able to say much else. "Um. Thank you."

 

"Listen, I know... I  _ know  _ that we had our problems in the past and I know that you felt for a long time that you couldn't tell us things, but I thought that we had gotten past that."

 

"We did, Mom. We did," she assures her.

 

"Then, I'm just lost as to why you would keep something like this from us. I mean,  _ married!  _ That's not something that you could just hide forever! You would've had to have told us eventually, right? Why not just get it over with?"

 

Erin opens and closes her mouth several times with no words coming out. She doesn't know how to answer. Luckily, her mom continues on even without a response.

 

"Unless, I mean... it's not...real? Because there were some things on the internet that doubted that it was real. Stuff saying that you were both drunk or that it was a publicity stunt, but you...  _ you _ wouldn't do that.  _ Would _ you?"

 

Erin has a split second to make a decision, and a million thoughts rush through her brain all at once. She spent the majority of her life having her parents think that she had been lying for attention. And that was  _ painful _ . She only  _ just  _ got their relationship back to the way that she had always wanted it to be. And to have to admit that she had made a drunken mistake and was now  _ telling a lie to the entire world _ ... what would her mother think of her then? 

 

When she opens her mouth to speak, she doesn't know what is going to come out until it's out.

 

"Of course it's real," she says, and her own eyes widen as soon as she hears the words leaving her tongue. She glances up at Holtz again and she tilts her head to the side, raising her eyebrows. "Yeah. Mom. Of course it's...my marriage is...it's real."

 

"Oh, thank  _ god _ ," her mother breathes a sigh of relief on the other end. "So you weren't drunk when you decided to do it?"

 

"Nope. No. We were... we were both _ totally _ sober. We just, um..." she searches for a lie, looking at Holtz who is watching her with an expression that looks both surprised and slightly impressed. She remembers what Holtz said to the barista at the coffee shop the other morning. "We were just like ' _ why wait? _ '"

 

"And how long had you been dating this woman?"

 

"Oh, um," she pauses, trying to decide what sort of answer her mother would like best. "We were dating um, like, um... a uh, a year. Or so. About... about a year. A little longer."

 

"Oh, sweetie, why didn't you just tell me? All those times I asked if you were seeing anybody and you were just making up men? I mean, I kind of knew that you were making them up, but I didn’t know  _ why.” _

 

Erin bites back the retort that she was  _ absolutely not  _ making up men, knowing that saying so would ruin everything. So she doesn’t say it. She just takes a deep breath and nods, despite the fact that she’s on the phone and her mother can’t see her nodding.

 

“Yeah,” she agrees. “I was...I made them all up.”

 

She pulls the phone away from her ear for a second, looking at Holtz with wide eyes, opening her mouth in a silent, panicked scream. 

 

_ “What are you doing?”  _ Holtz mouths to her.

 

_ “I don’t know!”  _ she mouths back, bringing the phone to her ear again. 

 

“I just wish you had told me.”

 

“I’m sorry that you had to find out from somebody else,” Erin says honestly. “It should have come from me.”

 

“And I’m sorry if you thought that you couldn’t tell us. Erin, your dad and I both just want you to be happy. You’re happy, right?”

 

“I… Yes,” she says. “Yes, I’m happy.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Um, Mom, I gotta go. Um, I, uh. I’m…,” she tries to think of an excuse, but she can’t. “I gotta go.”

 

“Okay. Well, let’s talk again soon, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“And Erin? I do love you. No matter what. Okay?”

 

“Okay,” she says again.

 

When she hangs up, she stares down at her hands, down at her phone with the now-black screen, processing what just happened. Processing the things she just told her mother. Processing all of the lies she just spouted, processing the hole that she just dug  _ so fucking deep. _

 

"Erin."

 

Holtz's voice is soft, speaking from where she still stands against the wall.

 

"Don't," Erin shakes her head, not looking up at her. "Don't say anything. I  _ know _ . I know, okay? I know you told me to tell her, I know you told me it would reach her some other way, I know. _ I know. _ So you don't... you don't have to say anything."

 

There's silence. Holtz doesn't say anything. At least, not for a while. And when she does, her voice is even softer than before. 

 

"I, um. I was...I was going to ask if you were okay."

 

She drops her head into her hands, resting her elbows on her knees. She feels like an asshole now, too. An asshole on top of being a liar and an overall terrible person.

 

"I'm...," she begins, wanting to say that she's fine. That everything is fine. But she can't. So she doesn't. Instead, she stands, still not looking over at Holtz, and walks towards her bedroom. "I'm tired. I'm just gonna...I'm gonna..."

 

She doesn't finish her sentence. She just closes the door behind her, shutting herself away in her bedroom. She knows that Holtz doesn't really deserve to be shut out like this, that she should at least offer her a few words, but she just falls onto her bed, burying her face in her pillow.

 

Except, it isn't her pillow. It's Holtz's pillow. It smells like her. Like her shampoo, her hairspray, the subtle earthy perfume that she wears. She groans, pushing the pillow away, grabbing for the other one and burying her face in that one instead.

 

She lays like that for a while. She doesn't move. She does her best not to think. Eventually, there's a soft knock on the bedroom door.

 

"Erin, um...," Holtz says on the other side. "There's food...if you want it?"

 

She considers it. But then she shakes her head.

 

"I'm not hungry," she calls out.

 

"Okay."

 

"...Thank you, though," she adds after a few beats. There's no response. She figures that Holtz has already moved away from the door.

 

She falls asleep. Somehow. She falls asleep and she wakes to bright sunlight pouring through the window. 

 

She wakes up in an empty bed and a silent apartment. 

 

She sits up. Her cell phone is sitting on the nightstand beside her, plugged in and charged. She looks at the time. It's a few minutes before her alarm is set to go off. She stops it before it can even start.

 

She gets out of bed. The silence is unnerving. It's only been a few days, but she had somehow already gotten used to the noises of Holtz's morning routine.

 

When she goes into the bathroom, there's a post-it note stuck to the mirror, Holtz's untidy scrawl filling up the little yellow square.

 

_ E-- _

_ Headed in early. Figured since we have our date tonight we could get away with making separate commutes. See ya later! _

_ \-- J. _

 

She peels the post-it from the mirror, holds it in her hand as she looks down at it, at the swoopy J, something about the use of Holtz’s first initial tugging a smile to her lips. She doesn’t throw the post-it away. Instead, she carries it out of the bathroom with her, doesn’t really know  _ what  _ she’s doing with it, and drops it onto the coffee table in the living room. 

 

She gets ready by herself and she’s out the door earlier than ever. 

 

She doesn’t actually see much of Holtz throughout the day. They’re both busy with their own things and Holtz only emerges from her lab every so often, only for short periods of time. It’s late afternoon when Holtz stops in front of Erin’s desk, fingers immediately tapping against the surface as she leans forward a bit.

 

“Hey,” she says.

 

“Hi,” Erin replies, looking up at her.

 

“Got any plans tonight?” Holtz asks her.

 

“Uh, yes. As a matter of fact, I do,” she answers.

 

“Oh,” Holtz frowns and then lets out a big, dramatic sigh. “Well, then,  _ nevermind.  _ I was gonna ask if you wanted to grab dinner with me, but if you  _ already have plans….” _

 

“Hm, yeah, sorry,” Erin says, scrunching up her nose, trying her very best to keep a straight face. “I definitely already have dinner plans.”

 

“Well...maybe next time,” Holtz says with a heavy shrug, turning away from Erin’s desk.

 

“Yeah, maybe. We’ll see,” Erin says. Holtz turns back for a second to shoot her a wink and then continues towards the staircase. Erin smiles, shaking her head, watching her go. 

 

They head home together around five, giving them just enough time to get ready and then head out again to make their reservation. Erin thinks about the fact that she’s never gotten ready for a date alongside the person that she was going with. It feels a little strange. Although, she also reminds herself that it’s not  _ really  _ a  _ real date.  _ It’s just dinner with Holtz, set up by the mayor’s assistant. And it’s not like she needs to try and impress Holtz or anything. And yet, she finds herself standing in front of her closet in just her underthings, staring at her options, unable to make a decision.

 

She pulls out a burgundy dress with short sleeves, a beaded peter pan collar, and a flowy skirt that stops just a few more inches above her knees than she’s usually comfortable with. She doesn’t wear it very often but she looks at it now, considers it. She tosses it onto her bed. She pulls out another dress in blue, sleeveless with a fuller, pleated skirt. 

 

She grabs the burgundy dress from the bed again, holds it up in front of herself in her full-length mirror. She moves it away, holds the blue dress against her body. 

 

She shoves the blue dress back into her closet and pulls the burgundy one on. 

 

Holtz is in the bathroom, so Erin just does her hair there, standing in front of her closet mirror, twisting sections up into a slightly-messy, deceptively intricate-looking bun. She examines herself in the mirror. She put on makeup that morning and it still looks fine, but when she finally has access to the bathroom, she finds her tube of red lipstick and applies it.

 

She thinks that she looks pretty damn good.

 

She goes back into the bedroom to grab shoes when she sees Holtz in a pair of high-waisted black slacks, a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, a pair of black suspenders and a black and white polka-dotted bow tie secured around her neck. 

 

Erin pauses, staring at her. And Holtz stares right back. 

 

“You look… you look really nice,” Erin tells her. 

 

“You… Thank...um,” Holtz mumbles, blinking a few times and then clearing her throat. “Thank you. You look..you look really nice…too.”

 

They leave shortly after, taking the train and arriving to the restaurant just a few minutes before their reservation. The restaurant is fancy. Erin was already prepared for that, but when they step inside, she still can’t help but look around at the place. It’s probably nicer than any other restaurant she’s ever been to. She glances over at Holtz who is also scanning the room. Holtz steps towards the maître d', speaking to him briefly, and then they are being shown to their table. It’s right in the center of the dining area. Erin is sure that their placement was strategic since they are  _ meant  _ to be seen together. They sit.

 

The menu is small and Erin looks over it, making her decision easily. Their waiter asks if they’d like to order drinks, but they both stick with water. They order their food, the waiter takes their menus, and Erin and Holtz are left sitting across from each other, neither one of them saying much. Erin isn’t sure what to say. It isn’t like she hasn’t spent plenty of time alone with Holtz. They’ve been  _ living together,  _ after all. Spending time alone with Holtz is usually easy. But something about the atmosphere of the fancy restaurant is making it...less easy.

 

“So…,” Erin says, smiling up at Holtz. Holtz smiles back but says nothing. 

 

Every single second of silence that passes makes Erin’s heart thump a little bit harder, uncomfortable in her chest, and she shifts in her chair, eyes moving towards the ceiling. 

 

“Amuse-bouche,” comes a voice beside the table, and Erin looks over and it’s their waiter, placing a small plate onto the table along with two wine glasses that he fills halfway with a white wine from a bottle in his hand.

 

“Oh, we didn’t order--” Holtz begins, but the waiter smiles.

 

“Compliments of the chef,” he explains before leaving the table.

 

“I’ve never actually been to a restaurant that does this,” Erin comments, gesturing to the tiny hors d’œuvres on the plate. “I’ve seen them in movies and stuff, but never…”

 

Holtz is looking at the wine glass in front of her. She glances up at Erin, raising her eyebrows. Erin understands. Neither of them have drank since Vegas. Both of them  _ said  _ that they would never drink again, and while they were likely both well aware that it wouldn’t actually be _true_ , Erin doesn’t think that either of them imagined that they’d be drinking again  _ so soon. _

 

“I mean…,” Holtz shrugs, picking up the wine glass and bringing it to her lips. “It’s  _ here.” _

 

“It  _ is  _ here,” Erin agrees. “And...it isn’t even a full glass. It can’t hurt.”

 

“Nah. We’ll be fine.”

 

Erin takes a sip of wine and sets the glass back down on the table. She looks up at Holtz who is sitting there, peering across the table at her with a smile.

 

“So,” she says, placing her elbow atop the table and resting her chin in her hand. “We’re on a  _ date.” _

 

“That we are,” Erin nods.

 

“It’s a fancy date,” Holtz comments. “We are married and we are on a fancy date.”

 

“Yes. All true facts there,” Erin says.

 

“Yeah,” Holtz nods, and silence falls over them once more. Erin takes another sip of wine. So does Holtz. They both smile at each other. 

 

“Um…,” Erin mumbles.

 

“Oh my god. Why is this so  _ weird?”  _ Holtz finally asks, and Erin lets out a long breath and a laugh, shaking her head.

 

“I don’t know!”

 

“It  _ is  _ weird, right? I’m not just imagining it?”

 

“No, no, you’re not, it’s...it’s weird,” she says.

 

“ _ Why?  _ I mean, we eat dinner together at home all the time.”

 

“I know! I don’t know what it is!”

 

“Well, whatever it is, we need to knock it off or a certain mayor’s assistant will  _ not  _ be too pleased with us.”

 

“I know. I know. You’re right,” Erin nods. “Um. We should talk about something.”

 

“Okay,” Holtz agrees. “What should we talk about?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Very helpful.”

 

“Well, you think of something!”

 

“Okay, fine,” she says. “Um.”

 

She smiles across the table. 

 

“Can I ask you a question?”

 

“Okay, sure,” Erin shrugs. 

 

“Umm,” Holtz holds the word for a while, her lips pressed together, eyes darting around the room before landing on Erin once more. “Okay.”

 

Erin quirks an eyebrow, waiting for Holtz to continue, to ask whatever question she plans on asking.

 

“Okay…?”

 

“Sorry. Okay. Question,” Holtz says with a quick nod of her head. “And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want, I just, um. Okay. Uh. Are you...I mean… you’re  _ not... _ uh. This is weird. Because I’m usually very good at figuring these things out on my own and I guess I’ve never  _ really  _ known, but I _thought_ I did, but then...um.  _ Are _ ...you...straight?”

 

The question catches Erin slightly off-guard, and she raises her eyebrows, mildly surprised. Before she can even think about answering, though, Holtz is speaking again, very quickly, almost rambling, one hand reaching up to tug at her earlobe.

 

“Because I mean like, I  _ thought  _ you were, even though I also thought that  _ maybe,  _ but for the most part, I thought  _ probably,  _ but then, I don’t know, I mean, I don’t know, you  _ did  _ marry me, which, yes, very very drunk, totally get that, but even so, I mean,  _ marriage  _ is... _ would  _ a straight person, no matter how drunk-- also, there is evidence of some pretty heavy mouth action which, while I don’t  _ really  _ remember it, still seemed very-- not that  _ that  _ means, that um...I just...um--”

 

“Holtz,” Erin finally interrupts, and Holtz stops talking and looks up at her. “Do you want to keep saying things or do you want me to answer the question?”

 

“Uh...Right. Yeah. Answer,” she nods.

 

Erin smiles, hesitating a bit before finally shaking her head. 

 

“...No?” Holtz asks. Erin shakes her head again.

 

“No,” she confirms. “ _ And  _ you’re not the first girl I’ve kissed.”

 

“ _ Really?”  _ Holtz asks, lighting up as she grins, leaning forward a bit. Erin laughs.

 

“I mean… Okay. So you’re the first girl I’ve kissed while  _ sober.” _

 

“Ah,” Holtz nods in understanding. “You...you’re not...very open about it, are you?”

 

“Um,” she mumbles, then shakes her head again. “No. I guess I’m not.”

 

“Who knew? Before...all this,” she adds, gesturing around them. 

 

“Um…. Abby? I think? I mean...I guess I never really  _ told  _ her, but she did...witness...certain things. So...I think she knew.”

 

“I see,” Holtz nods, and then she frowns. “But now...everybody knows.”

 

Erin nods.

 

“Everybody knows...and you...had no say in any of it.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I guess I didn’t really think about that,” Holtz admits, her eyes focused on the table. “Because I’ve pretty much been out my whole life, but you...have just been outed to everybody all at once and you had no say in any of it. You didn’t even get to be the one to tell your parents. I don’t know why I didn’t really think about that. I should have. I’m sorry.”

 

Erin doesn’t know what to say. The sincerity in Holtz’s voice and in her eyes when she finally looks up at her again surprises her. 

 

“Thank you,” she finally says. 

 

“Are you, um…  _ Are  _ you okay?” Holtz asks her, tilting her head to one side, still looking at her with those sincere eyes. Erin shrugs.

 

“Do I have any choice but to be?”

 

“Of course you do,” Holtz says. “I mean, true, you don’t have any choice but to  _ deal with it _ , but you still have a choice in how you feel about it.”

 

“I’m…,” Erin begins, but then pauses, thinks about for a few seconds. “I’ve been trying not to think about it too much.”

 

“Oh. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

 

“No, no, it’s okay, it’s...it’s fine. Um. I don’t know. It’s been easy not to think about when it was a bunch of strangers, you know? That was...weird, but okay. But, um….”

 

“Your parents,” Holtz supplies.

 

“Yeah,” Erin nods. She lets out a sigh. “How did… How did  _ you  _ tell your parents?”

 

“I didn’t,” she answers with a shrug. “Never really had to.”

 

“What?”

 

“I think my parents always sort of knew. And I knew that they knew. So we just never really had a big discussion about it. And they never made me feel like it wasn’t okay. So when I started bringing girls home...it was just...not a big deal.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“Yeah,” she smiles. “I got really lucky with them.”

 

“Yeah,” Erin agrees. “I mean..my parents are...they’re  _ fine with it,  _ I guess. And I’m really happy about that. I just…”

 

“Wasn’t ready?”

 

“Yeah. I guess not.”

 

She sighs again, reaches for her wine glass, downs the contents in one gulp. Holtz laughs softly across from her.

 

“Is it just me, or do you think we might need to order a bottle of that?”

 

“I think you might be right.”

 

“Can I ask you another question?”

 

“Another? So soon?” Erin laughs.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Okay, fine.”

 

“Okay. So. You are not straight. We have established that.”

 

“Right.”

 

“But you...mostly date men, yes?”

 

“Um. Yes.”

 

“Due to...not being out? Or...because you prefer them? Or…?”

 

“I don’t...I don’t know if I  _ prefer  _ them. I think...it’s just... _ easier.” _

 

“ _ Dating _ them is easier, or sticking to what society expects of you is easier?”

 

“Um,” Erin laughs. “Yeah. Uh, the second one, I think. I mean...I don’t really know if  _ dating them  _ is easier since I don’t have any experience dating women to compare it to.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Do you find it easy to date women?” Erin asks.

 

“Oh, don’t ask  _ me,”  _ Holtz says with widened eyes. “I wouldn’t know.”

 

“ _ What? You  _ wouldn’t know?!”

 

“Not really. I don’t really... _ date.” _

 

“Ever?” she asks, and Holtz simply shrugs. “I think it’s my turn to ask you a question now, right?”

 

“Oh, are we taking turns?” Holtz smiles. “Sure. Fire away.”

 

“Have you ever been in a relationship?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“When was the last one?”

 

“A while ago.”

 

“How long ago?”

 

“Hm. About six...or seven…? Six or seven years ago. It did not last very long.”

 

“How long?”

 

“Three weeks.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Oh, I got...distracted by a project that I was working on and...I didn’t return any of her calls for a week and a half.”

 

“Oh,  _ Holtz,”  _ Erin grimaces.

 

“Yeah, she was...not very happy,” she says with a laugh. “After that, it just seemed obvious that I wasn’t really cut out for relationships. So I just didn’t try anymore. And I was perfectly content with that. All of the other stuff...was enough for me.”

 

“Was?” Erin asks.

 

“Hm?”

 

“You said that it  _ was  _ enough for you. Past tense.”

 

“Oh. Did I?” she asks, seemingly distracted as she finishes her glass of wine and doesn’t offer any sort of explanation.

 

They order a bottle of the wine. It comes, and so does their food. Their conversation continues on easily now, and it just gets easier with every sip of wine. Erin keeps laughing, her face growing warm as she reaches the point of being tipsy. 

 

“Hey,” Holtz says, leaning forward over the table a bit. “Those people over there are trying  _ very  _ hard to be surreptitious with their cell phones, but I can totally see them taking pictures of us.”

 

“Oh. Oh! Should we… what should we do?”

 

“Act _coupley_?” she shrugs. She places her hand palm-up between them on the table and Erin gets the hint, placing her own hand on top of hers. “Now let’s gaze lovingly into each others eyes.”

 

Erin can’t help but giggle, especially when she sees Holtz struggling to keep from laughing as well, her mouth forced shut, lips pressed together. She manages to stifle her giggles and looks into Holtz’s eyes and they last a full two seconds before they both burst into a fit of laughter. 

 

“Maybe-- maybe I should _feed_ you,” Erin suggests through her laughter. “Couples do that, right?”

 

“Gross ones do,” Holtz says. “So yes, absolutely, you should do that.”

 

She tries. She tries very,  _ very  _ hard, but she’s already giggly and her hand is shaking as she attempts to guide the fork towards Holtz’s opened mouth. She makes it about halfway before the bit of food on the end of the fork slides right off, landing with a splash into Holtz’s water glass.

 

They both laugh way too loudly, Holtz pounding her fist on the table, and Erin is  _ actually crying _ , and everybody around them is staring at them, and Erin knows that under normal circumstances, this would be  _ embarrassing.  _ And yet, she’s laughing so hard that she’s in tears and she’s  _ having fun _ and she doesn’t even care that people are judging them. Besides, they’re at the restaurant to be seen anyways. And they’re doing a very good job of being seen.

 

When they leave, they’ve consumed an entire bottle of wine and Erin’s head is swimming pleasantly and she slips her hand into Holtz’s as they walk back towards the train, leaning into her slightly.

 

“Never know where the picture-taking people might be lurking,” she explains.

 

“You make a good point,” Holtz agrees.

 

They arrive back to the apartment and they both fall down onto the sofa. Holtz kicks her shoes off, undoes her bow tie and leans against one arm of the couch, looking over at Erin, grinning. They’ve both been smiling pretty much nonstop for most of the night now. Erin is having such a nice time that she isn’t really ready for it to be over. So she grins back at Holtz.

 

“This was actually... _ really  _ fun,” she says.

 

“You sound  _ surprised,”  _ Holtz replies. “What, didn’t think you could have fun with me?”

 

“I don’t mean that!” she laughs. “I just… I don’t know. I’m drunk.”

 

“Are you?”

 

“Yeah. Aren’t you?”

 

“A little bit. I’ve been drunker.”

 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that I have, too,” Erin says, before they both burst into laughter again. Erin rests her head on a cushion, letting her eyes fall closed, a smile still spread over her lips.

 

“You tired?” Holtz asks.

 

“No,” she shakes her head without opening her eyes. She hears Holtz’s soft laughter until it fades into silence. A minute or so passes and then Erin feels a fingertip trailing across her forehead, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. She opens her eyes slowly, sees Holtz reaching out to her, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. As soon as Erin looks at her, though, she pulls her hand away, looks sheepish and guilty.

 

“Sorry, I just, uh,” she mutters. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” she assures her. Holtz’s eyes meet hers and they stay locked together for a while. They don’t say anything. They just keep looking at each other from opposite sides of the couch. Finally, Holtz speaks, her voice soft.

 

“Can I ask you a question?”

 

“Another one?”

 

“Mmhm,” she nods.

 

“Okay.”

 

“How many people have you dated since Phil?”

 

Erin closes her eyes again, lets out a small, soft sigh before opening them once more.

 

“A few,” she answers.

 

“A few?”

 

“Three.”

 

“Oh,” Holtz says. “Um. For...for how long?”

 

“The longest was about...three months.”

 

“Oh,” she says again, and she’s frowning, chewing on her bottom lip. Erin pushes herself up from the cushion, sitting up a little bit straighter, watching Holtz curiously. 

 

“I didn’t tell you about any of them,” Erin says, scooting slightly forwards towards Holtz.

 

“Why not?” Holtz asks.

 

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly. “I...I guess…”

 

Holtz is looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to finish the sentence, to give an actual answer. But Erin isn’t entirely sure where she’s going with it.

 

“I don’t know,” she says again. Holtz simply nods. “Can  _ I  _ ask  _ you  _ a question?”

 

“I suppose it’s your turn,” Holtz smiles.

 

“It bothers you.”

 

“That’s not a question.”

 

“Right. Sorry. It bothers you?”

 

“What, that you didn’t tell me you were dating people?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I, uh…,” Holtz shrugs, glancing away. “No. I don’t know. No.”

 

“Holtz.”

 

“Maybe, uh...maybe a little?”

 

She looks at Erin again. 

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t know. I just...thought we were friends, and uh...thought that...you would...tell me things like that?”

 

“Holtz, we  _ are  _ friends,” Erin says, and she moves even closer to her, right beside her. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you about that, but we  _ are  _ friends.”

 

“ _ Promise?” _ Holtz asks, and Erin laughs, nods, reaches for Holtz’s hand and holds onto it lightly.

 

“I promise.”

 

Holtz doesn’t say anything in return. She just smiles, her eyes staring straight into Erin’s, and Erin finds herself momentarily frozen, looking back at her, her heart suddenly beating a whole lot faster. She doesn’t have an explanation for it, she’s just suddenly overwhelmed by… by what? Her head is still swimming and she sort of feels like she’s spinning even though she’s sitting still, and she’s staring at Holtz and her eyes shift down, focusing on those soft, soft lips.

 

And she’s thinking about the previous day, kissing Holtz in front of all those people and the surprise of her soft lips. She doesn’t know how she’s never noticed how nice Holtz’s lips are before. But now she’s staring at them, fully aware of how soft they are, noticing how soft they  _ look,  _ full and perfect. A shade of pink that reminds her of the inside of a conch shell. She thinks she read that in a book once. Somebody with the lips the same colour as the inside of a conch shell. But she can’t remember what book it was or if it was even a book at all. But it’s those exact words that come to mind when she looks at Holtz’s lips and she doesn’t think that she could have made that up on her own. 

 

She hardly feels in control of herself when she brings a hand up, the urge to touch Holtz’s lips too strong to resist. Her palm rests against Holtz’s jaw, her thumb moving to trace along the line of her lower lip. She can feel the lip balm against her thumb, notices it, wonders what kind of lip balm it is, wonders what it tastes like. 

 

A shaky breath falls from between Holtz’s parted lips, and Erin finally tears her eyes away, looks up, finds Holtz staring at her with wide eyes, looking almost panic-stricken. Holtz swallows, and it’s the only sound in the whole apartment. Erin still has her hand against her jaw, the tip of her thumb at the corner of her mouth, and just as she moves, beginning to lean in towards Holtz, Holtz pulls away.

 

She pulls away and she looks around, her eyes still wide, and she begins to mumble something incoherent but Erin barely even hears it. She pushes herself back, back towards the other side of the couch, slowly, trying not to look at Holtz, trying to just….

 

“I’m uh, I should-- tired-- gonna-- I’m… Bed,” Holtz stammers, and then she stands up. She stands up and she’s out of the room so fast that Erin hardly even sees her go.

 

One second she’s there, and the next, she’s gone.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This took a while! I've been very busy, so I thank you very much for being patient with me!  
> Unfortunately, I feel like I must warn you all that you might need to continue to be patient with me. Work is about to get VERY busy and I'll be working a bunch of overtime and on Saturdays from now through March, so I'm only going to have one day off a week for the next couple of months, and I'll still be able to write, I just won't have as much time, so things will be a little slower. So. Yeah. I'm sorry in advance, but I promise that I will do what I can to not take TOO long between updates!
> 
> ALSO! FUN FACT. In about an hour, it'll be my birthday. Not that THAT means that you should shower me with love or whatever, but, you know, if you WANTED TO... ;)
> 
> Happy New Year to you all, by the way. You are all wonderful and deserve the BEST for 2017!

The people in the dress shop eyed Erin and Holtz suspiciously. They really couldn't blame them. After all, they were being quite loud. They didn't really _realize_ how loud they were being and every time they did, they would start laughing, attempt to be a bit more quiet, but their hushed voices would only last a few seconds before their volume would inevitably increase again.

 

“How about this one?” Holtz asked, grabbing a tiny white dress and holding it up in front of her body. Erin laughed loudly, clutching at her stomach, nodding.

 

“Oh my god, _please,”_ she gasped out through her laughter.

 

“Can you even _imagine?”_ Holtz giggled.

 

“Can you please just try it on?” Erin begged. “I just want to see it.”

 

“Oh, _fine,”_ Holtz said, giving in easily.

 

She brought the dress into the fitting room, twisting and wiggling and squeezing her way into it. It hugged her body, riding low on her chest and high on her thighs. She stepped out of the fitting room and watched as Erin’s eyes widened, mouth falling open, and she didn't even say anything. She just stared.

 

Holtz laughed, turning and twirling and strutting towards Erin, stopping right in front of her.

 

“So...what do ya think?”

 

“You look…,” she swallowed hard. “You look _hot.”_

 

“Hotter than usual?” she grinned. Erin shook her head.

 

“No. But a different kind of hot.”

 

She turned to face the mirrors, looking at herself. She _did_ look hot.

 

“I'd fuck me,” she nodded.

 

“You just need to…,” Erin mumbled, stepping in front of her. “Push your boobs up.”

 

“What?”

 

“Push your boobs up,” she repeated. “This dress is begging for cleavage and your boobs are _hiding.”_

 

“They are not _hiding!_ They're just...safely secured in their holders.”

 

“Okay, well…,” Erin said, and then reached out to Holtz’s chest, putting her hands directly beneath her breasts and pushing them up and together.

 

“Oh,” Holtz said, watching the cleavage appear at the top of the dress.

 

“Yeah. See?” Erin smiled, pulling her hands away, Holtz’s breasts falling back to where they were before, the cleavage disappearing. “Scoop ‘em.”

 

“I'm sorry, _what?”_

 

_“Scoop. Them,”_ Erin repeated. “Reach in there and scoop ‘em up and over.”

 

“I… _what?”_ Holtz laughed, thoroughly _not_ understanding what Erin was instructing her to do. She stood facing the mirror, halfheartedly pushing her breasts up again, and beside her, Erin let out a sigh, shaking her head.

 

“I'm gonna touch your boobs, ‘kay?” Erin asked, and Holtz shrugged.

 

“Okay,” she said. After all, she just _had_ been touching her boobs.

 

Except, this time, Erin’s hands didn't stay on the outside of the dress. Holtz’s eyes widened and she sucked in a quick breath as Erin reached into the dress, into her bra, and it was fast, completely not sexual _at all,_ she just reached in, grabbed a handful, pushing each breast up and over, and that was it.

 

And yet, Holtz’s heart was racing, her skin was tingling, and there were _other feelings_ happening somewhere _lower_ that she wasn't really prepared to acknowledge at the moment.

 

“This would work better with a better bra, but whatever,” Erin mumbled, and Holtz glanced down again, saw the way her breasts stayed pushed together all on their own, her necklace falling right on top of them.

 

“Whoa. How'd you do that?” she asked. “I didn't even know they could do that.”

 

Erin simply smiled, standing beside Holtz as they both looked into the mirror.

 

“You should uh… you should demonstrate… how you did that… on yourself,” Holtz suggested. “Just, y’know, for future reference.”

 

“Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?” Erin teased.

 

“Yes. Yes, I would.”

 

“Maybe later,” she smiled, and then she _winked_ at her. Or, at least, she  _attempted_ to wink. Her other eye fell closed almost as soon as the first one did, but the attempt was clear. Holtz found it adorable. “You should definitely buy this dress.”

 

“I should?”

 

“You see yourself, don't you?”

 

“I…,” Holtz peered in the mirror, turning slightly, examining herself. “Yeah. I see myself.”

 

“It's nothing like anything you'd usually wear, but isn't that kind of fun?”

 

Holtz simply nodded, continuing to stare at herself in the mirror.

 

“ _You_ like it on me?” she asked.

 

“Yeah,” Erin nodded. “I like it on you.”

 

“Okay. I'll get it.”

 

*

 

Holtz stands in the shower, letting the water fall over her back and shoulders, dripping from her hair and down her face. She's lost track of how long she's been there. The hot water in Erin's apartment is much better than the hot water in her own apartment. She'd become used to taking showers as quick as possible before the water got cold, but at Erin’s place, the water stays hot practically forever.

 

It's early. She's not really sure how early it is. But it was still dark when she got out of bed. Erin was still asleep beside her, her breathing soft and rhythmic. She thinks that it's probably better this way. To be up, out of bed, out of the apartment before Erin wakes up. It's easier.

 

She feigned sleep when Erin had come to bed the previous night. She pretended to be asleep because she didn't want Erin to know that she had been lying in bed for nearly two hours wide awake after leaving her alone on the couch.

 

She couldn't sleep. For hours. Even after Erin came to bed, after Erin’s breathing indicated that she had fallen asleep, Holtz had still been awake. She couldn't stop thinking. About what had happened. She still can't stop thinking about it.

 

Erin was going to kiss her.

 

Again.

 

While drunk.

 

Again.

 

And it didn't _mean anything_ because she was drunk and Erin kissed people while drunk, it _didn't mean anything._

 

But she couldn't get the image of Erin's face out of her head, the image of her face when she had pulled herself away, the expression of hurt and rejection. It was so different from how she had looked any of the multiple times that Holtz had tried to spurn her advances in Vegas.

 

And it probably doesn't mean anything. It probably doesn't mean anything at all. But she can't stop thinking about it.

 

She squeezes her eyes shut, feels the hot water on her skin.

 

And the worst part of it all. She can't stop herself from thinking about what might have happened if she _hadn't_ pulled away from Erin. She can't stop herself from imagining her lips on hers, her tongue, the way her hair would feel between her fingers, the way the skin of her legs would feel under her hands as she ran them up underneath the hem of that dress, the way that that dress would slide from her body.

 

She lets out a groan, forcing herself to think about anything else, hating her own body’s reaction to her thoughts.

 

It's been two weeks. They've been married for two weeks and she doesn't know how she will be able to handle another two months of _this._ Of being so close to Erin _all the time,_ of going on _dates_ with her, of pretending to be a happy married couple, of kissing her in front of crowds, of being alone and nearly kissing and….

 

She's losing every possible battle, losing her control over the feelings that she had worked _so hard_ to keep in check for _these exact reasons._ She can't be around her. Not like this. Not when seeing her causes her stomach to flip over and her chest to tighten and every limb to suddenly feel gelatinous.

 

The sun is only just starting to rise when she leaves the apartment, leaving behind a note to let Erin know where she is and that she'll be back later.

 

She goes to the firehouse because she wants to distract herself, to focus on something that makes sense, to keep her mind busy.

 

It's empty when she gets there, which is no surprise as it is an early Saturday morning. It's quiet. But she turns on music in the lab. Loud. Loud enough to drown out everything else running through her brain. And she works.

 

She doesn't think about Erin. She doesn't think about kissing Erin. She doesn't think about the way that Erin had gripped onto her arm when they kissed in front of the crowd the other day. Doesn't think about the way that her hand felt in hers when she held it. Doesn't think about the way she laughed, loud and uninhibited when they were out on their date. The way the corners of her eyes crinkle when she laughs like that. The way she moved her thumb over her bottom lip. The way her hand felt against her jaw. The look on her face right before she began to lean in towards her….

 

She doesn't think about any of it because she keeps herself busy with the things that make sense to her.

 

It's mid-afternoon when she finally takes a break.

 

The computer at Kevin's desk is on (she once heard Kevin voice concerns that emails wouldn't be able to come in if the computer was turned off, so he likes to leave it on just in case. She's never bothered correcting him.)  Holtz wonders if there's anything from the mayor’s assistant. She knows that it isn't _really_ important. She knows that she doesn't _need_ to see it, whatever it might be. But her curiosity gets the better of her and she sits at Kevin’s desk, opening up the Ghostbusters business email account.

 

Just as she had expected, the first new email is one from Jennifer Lynch. She opens it.

 

The email says simply:

 

_Good job. Try not to go so heavy on the drinking next time though? Don't forget what got you into this in the first place!_

 

There is a link attached. Holtz clicks it.

 

It takes her to a New York news website that she's never even heard of before. The article headline reads: _Date Night for Ghostbuster Newlyweds?_ Right at the top of the page is a picture of Holtz and Erin right after leaving the restaurant. They're hand-in-hand, Erin leaning against Holtz, and they're both smiling.

 

Holtz doesn't look at the picture for very long. Instead, she reads the article.

 

_The Ghostbusters have been considered by many as local celebrities ever since supposedly saving the city last summer (there's no solid proof of anything, but those that saw things know what they saw.) It's been about two weeks since half of the team surprised their fans with a sudden marriage at a twenty-four hour chapel in Las Vegas. Skeptics have claimed that the marriage between Dr. Erin Gilbert and Dr. Jillian Holtzmann is nothing more than a fraud, a publicity stunt, and a waste of taxpayer dollars. However, while there has been no public statement made to the press and appearances in public by the duo have been few and far between, there has been no clear indication that their marriage isn't real. After an Instagram post by Dr. Holtzmann showed Dr. Gilbert wearing a ring, and very public kiss between the two, the couple has now been sighted on what appears to have been a date. Last night, Dr. Gilbert and Dr. Holtzmann wined and dined together where several eyewitnesses claim that they seemed “very happy”, “totally into each other” and “very much in love.”_

 

_“They seemed a little awkward at first. Probably since it was their first time out as a couple with everybody knowing,” one fellow patron explained. “But they loosened up pretty quickly. They talked a lot and they laughed a lot. I wasn't sure how real their marriage was either, but after seeing them together, I don't doubt it at all.”_

 

_Another patron says “they were obnoxious. They were obviously drinking a lot and they were loud and disruptive.”_

 

_While this may not give a definite answer as to just how real the marriage is between these Ghostbusters, it seems to have changed the minds of a few skeptics._

 

At the bottom of the brief article, a picture of their very public kiss is included. Holtz has avoided looking at any of the pictures of their kiss, but there it is now, right in front of her. Her eyes zero in on Erin’s hand, gripping onto her arm, the fabric of her jumpsuit sleeve bunched and wrinkled where she holds on.

 

She exits out of the article.

 

She feels as if she's just seen something that she shouldn't have. Even though that isn't the case. There's a twisting in her stomach as if she's just overheard a secret that she shouldn't know.

 

She deletes the email from the mayor’s assistant. She doesn't want anybody else to see it. She doesn't want anybody else to read the article.

 

She goes back to work.

 

She thinks that she could easily work all night, could stay focused long enough to avoid Erin completely and not get home until after she's already asleep. She considers it. She doesn't want to deal with whatever it is that they might have to deal with. Whatever it might be. Erin was drunk, but she wasn't too drunk to understand that Holtz had rejected her. And Holtz thinks that there's a pretty good chance that she'll have woken up and been relieved that nothing had happened. But what if she tries to apologize? Holtz doesn't want to discuss it at all, but she doesn't know how they could possibly avoid the subject.

 

So she considers just staying at the firehouse late to avoid Erin, to avoid having to even think about what happened. But then, what about tomorrow? Or the day after that? She can't avoid Erin forever. It's impossible. They're married. They're living together. They work together. She's going to have to face her sooner or later and she thinks that if it's obvious that she's trying to avoid her, it might make everything even worse.

 

She heads home around the time that the sun begins to go down. She makes a stop for Chinese food since it’s about dinner time (and if she and Erin are busy eating, how can they possibly have a serious discussion?)

 

When she steps into the apartment, the first thing she notices is the smell. _Clean._ It smells like every type of household cleaner known to mankind. And when she looks around, she sees that every surface has been cleaned, dusted, vacuumed… It’s clear that Erin has spent her entire day tidying and scrubbing every corner and surface of the apartment. And she's on the sofa with a basket of laundry, folding clothes, her hair pulled back, wearing what appears to be her pajamas still. She turns when Holtz walks in.

 

“You’re back,” she states simply, and it's difficult to determine if she's glad or upset that Holtz has returned.

 

“Yeah,” she nods, and then holds up the paper bag of takeout in her hand. “I come bearing Chinese food.”

 

“Oh,” Erin frowns. “I ordered a pizza.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I'm sorry, I didn't know you were--”

 

“Yeah, yeah, no, I probably should've--”

 

“And I--”

 

“Sorry,” Holtz says. “Little bit of a lack of communication there.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I hear that's a pretty common problem in a lot of marriages,” she jokes.

 

“I don't think that's really referring to food, though,” Erin says.

 

“Yeah, you're probably right,” she shrugs, moving towards the kitchen and setting the takeout bag on the counter. “It’s fine. Now we'll just have a feast.”

 

“Right. Yeah,” Erin nods. There's a sudden lull, a brief few seconds of silence, and Holtz is positive that she isn't imagining the thick tension hanging in the air between them. Erin doesn't look at her. She turns back to her laundry.

 

“Oh, you got mail today,” she says, still turned away from her.

 

“Oh, yeah, from my mom, right?” she asks, leaning against the wall of the living room. Close enough to have a casual conversation. Far enough to not feel too close.

 

“Yeah,” Erin says, turning to look at her again. “The box said it was perishable, so I opened it. Is that okay?”

 

“Totally fine,” she nods. “Thanks.”

 

“It's really sweet that your mom sends you cookies.”

 

“She's a sweet lady,” Holtz agrees.

 

“Also…,” Erin adds, hesitating a bit, glancing away. “I'm sorry, I ate one of them. They just looked really good and they were _there_ and I kind of forgot to eat all day so I was hungry and-- yeah. Sorry.”

 

“Oh,” Holtz says, eyes widening slightly, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards and she suppresses the urge to laugh. “You, uh… ate one?”

 

“Yes, I'm sorry.”

 

“No, no, that's okay, just uh… You ate a whole one?”

 

“Uh… Yeah?”

 

“How long ago?”

 

“Um. I don't know. Like, thirty minutes ago?” Erin answers, obviously confused by the questions.

 

“Okay, okay, cool,” Holtz nods. “Hey, uh, random question that has nothing to do with anything at all, but uh… Have you ever smoked pot?”

 

Erin looks even more confused now. She furrows her eyebrows, peering at Holtz from narrowed eyes.

 

“Um...once,” she answers slowly. “In college. Why?”

 

“Oh, just wondering,” she says. “Once in college. Okay. So, uh… I'm just gonna take a wild guess and say you've never tried edibles before, right?”

 

“ _What?”_ she asks, presumably understanding Holtz’s questions now, connecting the dots, and her narrowed eyes widen, and Holtz doesn't _want_ to laugh, but she feels it bubbling up inside of her and she presses her lips together to stop it before it starts.

 

“Those aren't-- but--” Erin stammers.

 

“I'm so sorry,” Holtz offers. Erin's eyes have gone as wide as they possibly can and she stares at Holtz with a slightly opened mouth.

 

“From your _mother?!”_ she yells, her voice much more high pitched than normal.

 

“Um, yeeeaaah,” she nods. “Have I… never mentioned that my parents run a medical marijuana dispensary in Colorado? I swear, I feel like I've mentioned that before….”

 

“ _What?! No!_ No, you have _never_ mentioned that!”

 

“Are you _sure?”_

 

“I'm certain that I would remember that!”

 

“Hm. Well… They do.”

 

“How-- you-- _what?!_ That's-- oh my god. _What?!”_ She's standing now, looking equally confused and panicked. “That doesn't even make any sense!”

 

“What doesn't?”

 

“You have said _on multiple occasions_ that in the event of your untimely death, we should rid your apartment of paraphernalia before your parents get there! But then your _mother_ is _sending you pot cookies?!”_

 

“Oh, yeah, because if that stuff is just lying there when my parents come to clean out their dead daughter’s apartment, they will _take them. For themselves._ And trust me, they _do not_ need any more than what they already have. It should go to people who _do_ need it.”

 

“What, you want us to donate your bongs to youth in need?” Erin asks.

 

“Yes, exactly,” she says.

 

“How charitable.”

 

“Thanks, I think so, too,” Holtz says, ignoring Erin’s tone of sarcasm.

 

“So-- so-- so-- I'm… I'm gonna get stoned?”

 

“Well...yes,” she nods.

 

“Oh my god. _Oh my god.”_

 

“Hey! Look on the bright side! At least you know it's coming now. Imagine if you didn't know and you just like, started tripping out and--”

 

“ _Tripping out?!”_ Erin practically shrieks. “What do you mean by _tripping out?!”_

 

“Well, I mean, you ate an _entire_ pot cookie, Erin,” she frowns. “And, yeah, sure, those actually have a pretty low dosage in them, but still.”

 

“What if I throw up? If I throw it up, will it stop?!”

 

“I don't know,” she says. “But I don't think so. I think it might be too late. I think you're just gonna have to ride it out.”

 

“Oh my god,” Erin mumbles yet again. “What the hell is happening right now? This is. Oh my god. _Why_ does your mom send you pot cookies?!”

 

_“_ Oh, because it's the only thing I've found that relieves my horrendous period cramps,” she explains quickly with a wave of her hand. “My mom sends me a bunch at once, I keep ‘em in the freezer for when I need them. I ran out and, y’know, it's getting to be _that time._ So she sent me more. I've tried making my own, but they're just not as good. Besides, my dad grows the best weed anyways, so.”

 

“Your dad _grows weed?!”_

 

“Yeah,” she says, finally moving closer to Erin, coming around to sit on the sofa. “Erin, my parents were in their twenties in the sixties. They're _hippies._ Always have been, always will be. And, you know, there's actually _a ton_ of science involved in growing weed. It's pretty fascinating.”

 

“This is…,” Erin mumbles, sitting back down on the sofa, staring straight ahead. “This is _a lot.”_

 

“I know. But everything's gonna be fine,” she assures her. Erin nods, but doesn't say anything, continues to look forward, and Holtz watches her and is startled to see the way her bottom lip trembles slightly, and is even more startled when a tear slides down her cheek.

 

“Hey, hey, it's okay,” Holtz says softly, abandoning her need for space and reaching towards her, placing a hand on her arm.

 

“I just wanted to eat a cookie!” Erin says, her voice shaking. “That’s all I wanted! Just a cookie! I didn't want to get stoned!”

 

“I know. I know. I'm sorry. But it's gonna be okay. Everything's gonna be okay. Okay?”

 

“When will it start?” Erin asks.

 

“It depends. It usually hits me in about forty-five minutes or an hour but it can take like, almost two hours sometimes.”

 

“And how long will it last?”

 

“A while.”

 

“What does it feel like?” she asks, turning her head and looking at Holtz again. “I mean, I only ever smoked it once and I don’t think I even...did it right. I didn’t feel anything. So, I don’t...I don’t know….”

 

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” Holtz tells her, keeping her voice as soft and calming as she possibly can. “It’s not unpleasant. I mean, you had a lot so it may be a little more intense, but… if you’re really having a bad time and really hating it, then you can just go to bed and sleep it off.”

 

Erin just nods, acknowledging Holtz’s words but not saying anything in return. She sighs, dropping her head into her hands.

 

“Did you at least enjoy the cookie, though?” Holtz asks her. And Erin actually laughs. Small and soft, but it slips past her lips and she nods, her head still in her hands.

 

“It was a really good cookie,” she says.

 

“My mom is _super_ popular for her edibles. I’m probably biased, but I think they’re the best in the world. And they’re vegan! Which is like, added bonus for some people because uh, vegan edibles aren’t always very easy to find, so that’s sort of her niche, not that she really needs a niche because they’re also the best. Yeah. My dad grows the best stuff and my mom makes the best edibles, and also, they’re these old hippies who are weird and friendly to everybody, so everybody just fucking loves them, y’know,” she’s rambling, mostly trying to distract Erin from whatever she might be feeling, but Erin is attentive, her head tilted to one side now, looking at Holtz, a small smile upon her lips. “They could’ve retired years ago, but they love doing it so much, I don’t know if they’ll ever retire.”

 

Just then, the doorbell rings. They both jump at the sudden noise.

 

“Pizza,” Erin mumbles. “It’s the pizza I ordered.”

 

“Oh, right,” Holtz nods, moving to stand up. “I’ll get it.”

 

So, she does. It doesn’t take her long. She’s up for about five minutes, and then she’s back at the couch with the pizza box, setting it down on the coffee table, and she looks at Erin, but Erin is looking at the wall, her mouth slack, eyes blinking often in a steady rhythm. She turns her head slowly, glancing up at Holtz, one corner of her mouth turning up into a lopsided smile.

 

“You...doing okay?” Holtz asks her, trying her best not to laugh, and Erin nods.

 

“Yeah,” she answers, her smile growing.

 

“Okay. Good,” Holtz says, sitting down beside her again.

 

“I think I’m high,” Erin says.

 

“I think you are, too.”

 

Erin laughs. A burst of loud giggles. And then she brings her hand to her mouth, but she continues to grin beneath it, her body shaking slightly with silent laughter.

 

“See, it’s not so bad, is it?” Holtz asks her, and she shakes her head.

 

“Will it stay like this? The whole time?”

 

“It’ll probably get a little more intense, but...it’ll be fine. You’ll be fine,” she assures her.

 

“Okay,” Erin nods. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. Totally fine.”

 

“Totally fine,” Holtz agrees. “Would you like to maybe watch something on television or…?”

 

“Yes. Okay. Yeah,” Erin says.

 

Holtz grabs the television remote, turning it on, looking through channels to find something to watch.

 

“Oh, look, there’s a Golden Girls marathon on Logo. How’s that sound?”

 

“Sounds golden,” Erin answers with a giggle.

 

“Alright,” Holtz laughs, putting the channel on and setting the remote back down. They watch. Erin doesn’t say much, but Holtz glances at her every so often just to make sure that she’s doing okay.

 

They make it through almost a whole episode before Holtz feels Erin’s hand grip suddenly at her arm. And Holtz turns, finding Erin looking towards the floor, a frown on her face, eyebrows furrowed.

 

“I don’t think I like this anymore,” she mumbles softly. “I feel weird. I don’t like it. No. I don’t like it.”

 

“Okay, okay, it’s okay,” Holtz says, turning her entire body on the couch so that she’s directly facing Erin. “What’s going on?”

 

“Everything...is like...flashing?” she says, then shakes her head. “Not like flashing, but like...going in and out. Like...everything is just…. It’s like. Every time I blink, I’m in a new place. But I’m not. It’s weird. I don’t like it. I don’t like this.”

 

“Okay. You’re just _really_ high. I know, it’s a little uncomfortable, but it’s gonna be fine. Here, look at me,” she says, and Erin turns, looking towards her, an expression of deep concern etched across her face. “Okay. Good. Focus on me, okay?”

 

“You look weird,” Erin says softly.

 

“I look weird?” Holtz laughs. Erin nods.

 

“You look different.”

 

“What’s different about me?”

 

“I don’t know,” she says. “Your face just looks different.”

 

“Well, I assure you that it’s the same face that I wear every day. I kept all of my other faces at my apartment.”

 

Erin laughs.

 

“You know that scene in Mrs. Doubtfire when the face falls out the window and gets run over by a truck?” Erin asks.

 

“Yeah, I think I remember that.”

 

“I just had an image of you taking off your face and...that happening,” she says, and she laughs again. Holtz laughs, too.

 

“Well, I guess my secret is out,” Holtz shrugs. “I wear different faces.”

 

“That’s weird. And creepy. And gross,” Erin shudders. “I don’t like that.”

 

“Okay, well, I’m joking. This is my only face. It is firmly attached to the rest of my body,” she assures her.

 

“Good. It’s a good face.”

 

“Your face is a good face, too,” Holtz smiles.

 

“I can’t feel my body,” Erin says. “I feel like I’m just floating.”

 

“Your body is still here,” Holtz tells her. “Try focusing on one body part at a time. I bet you’ll be able to feel it.”

 

Erin nods. She nods and closes her eyes for a second, and then she smiles, holds up a single hand, wiggling her fingers. She opens her eyes again.

 

“I have a hand,” she announces happily.

 

“You have a hand!” Holtz agrees with a wide smile. Erin continues to gaze at her own hand for several seconds with a vacant expression. She blinks a few times and then looks at the television.

 

“How long have we been watching this?” she asks.

 

“We’re almost done with the first episode.”

 

“The _first?!”_

 

“Yeah.”

 

“No,” she shakes her head. “This has been on for _at least_ an hour.”

 

“Nope. Not quite.”

 

“Oh my god,” she mumbles, dropping her head into her hands again. “I can’t feel the outside of my body. But I can still feel the inside. Why is my heart beating so fast? Is it normal for my heart to be beating so fast?”

 

“Okay, you might be freaking yourself out a little bit, which we should try to avoid. Try to just focus on something else.”

 

“Like _what?”_

 

“I don’t know. Just… Look at me again,” she says, and Erin does as she’s told, lifting her head. “Hey. Hi. You’re okay. Okay?”

 

“I just wanted a fucking cookie,” Erin mumbles softly.

 

“I’ll tell you what… tomorrow, I will bake you _all the cookies_ you could possibly ever want. Sound good?”

 

“Without weed?”

 

“Without weed,” Holtz promises.

 

“Okay,” Erin nods. “What kind?”

 

“Well, I don’t know. What kind of cookies are your favourite?”

 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “I like chocolate chip.”

 

“Okay. I’ll make chocolate chip.”

 

“I like peanut butter cookies, too.”

 

“I can make some of those.”

 

“And the sugar cookies with the sprinkles inside of them.”

 

“Oh, Funfetti?!”

 

“Yeah,” Erin nods with a smile. “Funfetti.”

 

“I will _definitely_ make you some Funfetti cookies.”

 

Erin continues to smile at her, a dazed sort of expression on her face.

 

“Are you hungry?” Holtz asks her. “Do you want to eat something? We have pizza _and_ Chinese.”

 

“Yes,” Erin answers, drawing the word out, nodding slowly.

 

“Do you just want pizza or do you want me to go get the Chinese food, too?”

 

“Yes. Both,” she says.

 

“Alright,” Holtz nods, standing up to go into the kitchen to grab the bag of takeout that she’d left there. She brings it to the coffee table, and sets out all of their food.

 

“You know,” Holtz laughs, looking at the amount of food that they have. “This looks like a stoner’s dinner.”

 

“Holy shit, this is the best pizza I’ve ever had in my entire life,” Erin mumbles, her mouth full of food. Holtz can only laugh.

 

“You still doin’ okay?” Holtz asks Erin once they’ve eaten and watched television for a little while, and Erin hasn’t said much, but she’s leaning back on the sofa, eyes fixed on the television, a smile on her face, and she nods.

 

“Doin’ okay,” she confirms, and then she laughs.

 

“What’s funny?” Holtz asks. Erin laughs again, and then shrugs.

 

“Lots of things are funny,” she says. “Like, um. I’m stoned. Because I ate a pot cookie without knowing that it was a pot cookie because your mom sent it to you and she sent it to you here because you live here now because we’re married and we got married so now we’re married and you live here and we’re married.”

 

She laughs again. Harder this time. And she keeps laughing. And Holtz laughs, too. She can’t even help it. Erin is laughing so hard that she clutches at her stomach and she wheezes with every sharp inhale of breath between her laughter.

 

“Oh my god,” she gasps. “It’s so fucking funny! How did any of this happen?!”

 

Holtz shrugs, shakes her head, continues to laugh with Erin. Finally, after a few long minutes, Erin’s laughter begins to die down to a soft stream of giggles, and she shifts, settling into the couch cushions, her body leaning just slightly in Holtz’s direction, not quite touching her, but almost.

 

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Erin asks, and for some reason, the words make Holtz’s heartrate speed up, her stomach flipping uncomfortably, and her mind suddenly races with every possible question that Erin might ask her, moments from the previous night flashing in her memory, and she swallows hard but nods anyways.

 

“Sure,” she says.

 

“In the package that your mom sent you, there was a note attached to the cookies,” she says. “She called you Bluejay. On the note. It was made out to Bluejay.”

 

“Oh. Um,” Holtz mumbles, and she feels her entire face go warm, feels the heat all the way to the very tips of her ears. “Whaaaaat, that’s, uh… that’s...weird. Nobody has...ever...called me that...before.”

 

She can feel Erin’s eyes on her even though she’s avoiding her gaze, staring down at the upholstery of the sofa, taking a sudden interest in how it looks.

 

“Oh my god,” Erin says softly. “You’re _blushing.”_

 

“No I’m not,” Holtz says quickly, even though she knows that Erin is right. She can feel it.

 

“You _totally are._ You’re _blushing_. I have never seen this before!”

 

“Shutup,” Holtz grumbles, resisting the urge to completely hide her face from Erin.

 

“Holtz… do your parents call you Bluejay?”

 

“No,” she lies quickly. “I mean, not… They, uh… Um.”

 

“Oh my god. You have a nickname from your parents. Oh my god. This is the greatest thing in the world.”

 

“Really? The _greatest_ thing in the _world_?” Holtz asks, finally looking up at her again, and she is grinning so wide and looking so ecstatic that Holtz truly believes that at the moment, it really _might_ be the greatest thing in the world to her.

 

“Yes,” she nods. “Please tell me why they call you Bluejay.”

 

“Um,” Holtz hesitates, and her face is _burning._ “Oh, god. Do I have to?”

 

“Yes,” she says. “Holtz, please. Please, Holtz. Please. I’m stoned off your pot cookies. You _owe me this.”_

 

“I… I guess I can’t really argue with that logic,” she frowns.

 

“Please tell me?” Erin begs. Holtz lets out a long sigh.

 

“Well... _Jay_ because my name starts with the letter J,” she mumbles out, not looking at Erin, absentmindedly tugging at her earlobe. “And, uh. Blue...is...becauseIhaveblueeyes.”

 

“That is...the _cutest_ thing that I have ever heard in my entire life,” Erin says.

 

“It is?” Holtz asks, glancing at her, and she’s smiling, looking at Holtz in a way that makes her face continue to burn, and it frustrates her because she doesn’t _get embarrassed,_ she doesn’t _blush,_ she doesn’t lose her cool or air of nonchalance like this. She _doesn’t._ And yet, here she is.

 

“It is,” Erin nods.

 

“They’ve pretty much called me that my whole life,” Holtz mumbles softly with a shrug. “Don’t tell anybody. Please.”

 

“Does nobody else know?!”

 

“No! And I’d like to keep it that way!”

 

“Okay,” Erin agrees, still smiling. “So I’ll only call you Bluejay in private then.”

 

“Oh, you’re gonna call me that now?” she laughs.

 

“You think that I’m gonna find out about a nickname you’ve had your entire life and _not_ call you by it?” she asks. “This is my favourite thing that has ever happened.”

 

Holtz laughs, shaking her head. Erin reaches for her cell phone on the coffee table and then settles back onto the sofa, and Holtz watches her as she stares intently at the screen of her phone. She types a few things, completely focused on what she’s doing, and then she smiles.

 

“Wow,” she says.

 

“What?”

 

“You know how like, birds are symbolic?”

 

“Um….”

 

“Like, certain bird symbolize certain things?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“I just looked up the symbolism of a blue jay,” she says. “And Holtz… it’s _you._ Like, it’s actually _you.”_

 

“What?” she laughs.

 

“Listen,” Erin says, and then begins to read from her phone. “The blue jay symbolizes curiosity, assertiveness, and intelligence, as well as fearlessness, loyalty, and loquaciousness.”

 

“Hm,” Holtz hums.

 

“There’s a bunch of other stuff, but I don’t feel like reading it all out loud, but you’re an _actual blue jay._ Oh my god. That is _so crazy_.”

 

“You’re fun when you’re stoned,” Holtz grins, propping her chin in her hand, looking at Erin and the way her eyes are wide in absolute amazement.

 

“I wonder what kind of bird _I_ am,” she says, suddenly gazing off towards nothing. “There are _so many birds.”_

 

“Maybe you can find a Buzzfeed quiz,” Holtz suggests. “Y’know, a _What Kind of Bird am I?_ quiz.”

 

“No,” Erin shakes her head. “There are too many birds to include them all on one quiz. The results wouldn’t be accurate enough.”

 

“Then I guess you’ll just have to read through all of the birds.”

 

“What kind of bird do you think I am?” Erin asks her, looking at her.

 

“Oh, gosh, um...I don’t know. A...a pigeon,” Holtz answers quickly. Erin scrunches up her nose, furrows her eyebrows, frowns at Holtz.

 

“A _pigeon?!”_

 

“It was the first bird I thought of!”

 

“But a _pigeon?!”_

 

“I don’t know!”

 

“You think I’m a pigeon?!”

 

“Look up what it means! Maybe you _are_ a pigeon!”

 

“I can’t believe you think I’m a _pigeon,”_ Erin grumbles under her breath as she looks at her phone again, typing a few things in.

 

“What does the pigeon symbolize?” Holtz asks.

 

“Pigeons are considered spirit messengers that carry communication between the worlds of the living and dead,” Erin reads from her phone.

 

“Well, see, that’s not entirely inaccurate,” Holtz says. “You _are_ a Ghostbuster.”

 

“They symbolize determination and the ability to overcome whatever obstacles lie in a person's path. Pigeons are also connected to the symbol of home and are thought to bring love, peace and an understanding of gentleness.”

 

She finishes reading with a small, thoughtful frown, and doesn’t say anything for a while. Holtz watches her, can’t help but smile, and she finally breaks the silence.

 

“Erin...I think you’re a pigeon,” she says softly.

 

Erin giggles. And then she laughs a little bit louder.

 

“Am I a pigeon?!”

 

“You’re a pigeon,” Holtz nods. “You know, I’ve always found pigeons to be very beautiful birds. The way their feathers are sort of shiny? Vastly underappreciated, in my opinion.”

 

Erin giggles again, smiling over at Holtz.

 

“You know what’s funny?” Erin asks, leaning against the back cushions of the couch, resting her head on one, her eyes slipping closed. It’s almost the exact position she was in the previous night, right before….

 

“What’s funny?” Holtz asks, not allowing herself to think about last night.

 

“It’s kind of a metaphor, you know?” she says.

 

“What is?” Holtz laughs. “The birds?”

 

“No,” she shakes her head, not opening her eyes. “Well, yes, but no.”

 

“What’s the metaphor, then?”

 

“Just wanting a cookie. But then getting stoned,” she says simply as if it makes perfect sense. And to her, it likely does make perfect sense. But Holtz has to hold back a laugh.

 

“What is it a metaphor for?” she asks.

 

“Life,” Erin sighs.

 

“Oh. Okay,” she nods. She waits patiently for more of an elaboration.

 

“But sometimes being stoned isn’t as bad as you thought it would be,” Erin continues, and she sounds as if she’s mere seconds from falling asleep, her lips barely moving as she speaks. “You’re a cookie.”

 

“ _I’m…_ ,” Holtz begins, but then she isn’t entirely sure if she wants clarification. But her heart beats a little bit faster as she can’t help but wonder if Erin is implying that she _wants her._ She’s sure that it can’t be what she means. She can’t really know what she means. After all, she’s incredibly stoned. She could mean something _entirely_ different.

 

Erin remains silent, and eventually, her breathing is slightly louder, coming out in an even rhythm, and Holtz can tell that she’s fallen asleep.

 

She watches her.

 

They didn’t discuss the previous night at all. She thinks that it might be possible for them to just ignore it, pretend like it didn’t happen. Because things feel like they might be okay.

 

She gently nudges Erin’s shoulder, prodding her awake.

 

“Hey,” she whispers. “Why don’t you go to bed?”

 

Erin blinks her eyes open and simply nods, a smile spreading over her lips.

 

“When you wake up, you’ll be back to normal,” Holtz assures her.

 

“Okay,” she says, pushing herself up and off of the couch, beginning to walk slowly towards the bedroom.

 

“G’night, Bluejay.”

 

Holtz smiles, feels heat not just on her face this time, but spreading throughout her entire body.

  
“Goodnight, Pigeon.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while, didn't it? I'm afraid that it's probably gonna be like this until I get less busy at work (mid-March) and I'm very sorry.

There are cookies  _ everywhere.  _

 

Holtz kept up on her promise to make Erin all the cookies (without weed) that she could possibly ever want. There are  _ so many cookies  _ \-- more cookies than the two of them could ever possibly eat. When they go to the firehouse together on Monday morning, Erin brings a large tupperware container of cookies along to share with the others because there are just  _ so many cookies. _

 

“Wow, what's the occasion?” Abby asks.

 

“Erin got--” Holtz begins, but Erin shoots her a warning glance, not ready to share the still rather embarrassing situation with everybody else yet.

 

“--hungry,” Holtz finishes after catching Erin's eye, and she smiles brightly.

 

“So you robbed a bakery?” Abby laughs.

 

“Thought about it,” Holtz says. “But I really didn't want to do any harm to local businesses, so I figured it was easier to just make cookies myself instead.”

 

“Wait.  _ You  _ made these?” Patty asks hesitantly, pausing with a cookie halfway to her mouth. “Are they safe to eat?”

 

“She's a surprisingly good cook,” Erin assures her. 

 

“Oh, y’know, cooking, engineering… not  _ that  _ much of a difference between the two,” Holtz grins with a shrug.

 

“So… let me understand this correctly,” Patty says, looking between Erin and Holtz. “Erin wanted cookies so you went ahead and baked her about ten dozen?”

 

“I only know how to bake in large batches,” Holtz says. Erin doesn't miss the look that Patty and Abby share -- Patty with her eyebrows raised and Abby with a small smile. Erin doesn't know what it means, but she knows that it means  _ something.  _ She chooses to ignore it.

 

“So… how was the date?” Abby asks in a slightly teasing voice.

 

“Fine,” Erin and Holtz say in unison, both of them rushing the word out suspiciously fast. Erin avoids looking at Holtz. She also avoids looking at Abby and Patty. Instead, she looks towards the ground. 

 

“I'm surprised that Jennifer hasn't had anything to say about it yet,” Patty comments. 

 

“If she hasn't said anything, then it must’ve been fine,” Holtz says.

 

Erin nods in agreement. She'd rather stop talking about it now. It seems as though Holtz feels the same way because a second later she turns, saying that she has stuff to work on upstairs, and then she disappears.

 

*

 

Erin watched Holtz, captivated and intrigued by the transformation taking place in front of her. And she was  _ impressed,  _ too. It wasn’t like she’d never seen Holtz wear makeup before. Because Holtz wore makeup plenty of times. But it was subtle and natural and Erin never really thought too much about it. 

 

But they were in a Sephora, Holtz having insisted that if she was going to be wearing a dress, then she needed to go  _ all out  _ and really  _ do this.  _ Erin wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but then they were in a Sephora and Holtz was making her way through various makeup testers, grabbing the disposable makeup applicators and humming to herself as she swiped a liberal amount of sparkly eyeshadow over her eyelid.

 

She did it all so  _ easily,  _ it was almost unfair. She was  _ drunk.  _ Her makeup application  _ should not  _ have looked as good as it did, and yet, as she rubbed her freshly pink-painted lips together, separating them with a pop and turned towards Erin with a smile, all Erin could do was stare in amazement, her eyes slightly squinted in the bright lights of the store, everything kind of blurred except for Holtz’s face. She saw  _ that  _ clearly. 

 

“You’re so pretty,” was the only thing that she could say, in a breathless sort of mumble. She stepped closer towards her, reaching out, letting her fingertips lightly brush over Holtz’s cheek. “Have I ever told you that?”

 

“I don’t know,” Holtz said.

 

“I should tell you that,” Erin nodded. “More often. You’re  _ so pretty.  _ Not even just right now. Not even because of the makeup. But like… Holtz. You’re so pretty.”

 

“ _ You’re  _ so pretty,” Holtz replied, grinning. 

 

“ _ You  _ are!” Erin insisted.

 

“So are you! And I  _ also  _ should tell  _ you  _ that. Because I  _ think  _ it.  _ All the time.  _ But I don’t tell you enough! You’re so pretty, Erin.”

 

“Oh my god, you’re  _ so pretty.” _

 

_ “You... _ are  _ so pretty.” _

 

They were both holding each others faces, standing in the middle of Sephora, swaying slightly where they stood.

 

“Like,  _ sometimes, _ ” Holtz continued, her eyes nearly completely closed. “I can’t even  _ look at you.  _ Because you’re  _ so fucking pretty  _ and it makes my brain hurt because  _ I don’t understand how you can be so pretty.” _

 

“That’s  _ so nice,” _ Erin slurred, gripping onto Holtz’s face, pressing her cheeks in. “You’re  _ so nice.  _ So nice and so pretty.”

 

People were looking at them. There was soft laughter coming from multiple sides around them. Erin giggled.

 

“We should go,” Holtz said, having noticed their audience as well. Erin nodded, releasing Holtz’s face and reaching down for her hand instead, beginning to pull her out of the store.

 

It was only when they were outside that Holtz glanced down and let out a yell of surprise.

 

“Oh no!” she gasped, holding up the tester tube of lipstick that she had been using inside the store. “Oh no! I took this! I didn't mean to take this!”

 

“Oh my god, you  _ shoplifted!”  _ Erin laughed loudly.

 

“We have to go back! I have to give it back!”

 

“No,  _ come on,  _ we have things to  _ do!” _

 

“But Erin! Erin! I  _ stole something!” _

 

_ “ _ You've stolen things before.”

 

“But that's  _ different.  _ All of the other times, I did it on purpose! And usually out of spite!”

 

“Oh well,” Erin shrugged, pulling Holtz further along.

 

“I'm gonna go to  _ jail.” _

 

*

 

Erin hears her alarm going off, but she's  _ too comfortable _ to do anything about it. Even moving to hit the snooze button seems like too much effort. But it keeps making noise and so she finally turns, groggy and still mostly asleep as she reaches to snooze.

 

And then she turns back, wanting to find that same comfortable, warm spot that she just left, and nestles back into Holtz’s arms, and one arm tightens around her waist, and then Erin’s eyes snap open, suddenly fully awake.

 

And her heart is hammering in her chest, panic running through her veins as she assesses her situation. She and Holtz are  _ cuddling.  _ Really, actually cuddling this time. Not just some entwined limbs. Erin is pressed completely up against her, and Holtz has her arms around her. Holtz is still completely asleep.

 

Holtz is still completely asleep which only further adds to Erin’s confusion. Holtz is almost always awake before she is. By the time her alarm goes off to wake her up, Holtz is usually long since out of bed. Even on weekends, she's typically up first.

 

But it isn't even a weekend. It's a Thursday. 

 

It's a Thursday and Holtz is still completely asleep and they're  _ cuddling. _

 

Erin went to bed before Holtz. She remembers hearing Holtz come in. She remembers the way the weight of the bed shifted, suddenly making it feel a lot more comfortable, but she doesn't remember much after that. She doesn't know how they ended up this way.

 

She pulls herself away from Holtz, careful not to wake her in the process. She pushes her body further towards the edge of the bed, the cold sheets unwelcoming and uncomfortable on her skin. There's a part of her that is telling her to just turn off her alarm, curl up beside Holtz again, and go back to sleep, warm and cozy next to her. But that's the part of her that is still delirious from sleep and lacking any sort of self-control. There's another part of her that is slowly gaining full consciousness, and that's the part of her that takes over. 

 

She sits up in bed, looking over at Holtz, still confused as to why she's sleeping when she's usually not sleeping at this hour. She reaches towards her, nudging her shoulder with her fingertips.

 

“Holtz,” she says softly. “Holtz, you gotta wake up.”

 

Holtz only groans and then turns away from her, burying her face into the pillow.

 

“Holtz,” Erin says again, nudging her with a little bit more force. “You're usually up by now. You're gonna be late if you don't get up.”

 

“ _ No _ ,” comes Holtz’s muffled response.

 

“No?”

 

“Sleep.”

 

“No sleep?” Erin repeats, but the mess of blonde hair on the pillow shakes from side to side.

 

“ _ Nooo,”  _ Holtz says again, except this time it's a long, drawn-out whine and Erin bites back a laugh.

 

“I don't really understand what you're trying to say. “

 

“No.”

 

“Yeah, I got that part.”

 

“ _ Sleep.” _

 

“No sleep.”

 

Holtz whines again without words this time and then reaches down to grab the blanket at her waist, pulling it up and over her head. 

 

“Okay, fine,” Erin sighs. “Stay in bed. But if you're not ready to go when I am, I'm leaving without you.”

 

The lump of blankets that is Holtz shifts and turns and then the top of the blanket is being pulled down just enough to reveal some messy hair and a pair of sleepy blue eyes.

 

“That's not allowed,” Holtz grumbles.

 

“Neither is oversleeping,” Erin states with a shrug.

 

“I'm  _ not  _ oversleeping,” she argues. “I'm gonna get up. Just...give me five more minutes.”

 

“Fine. Five more minutes,” she agrees, sliding out of the bed. “I'm coming back in five minutes and you'd better be getting up.”

 

“ _ Okay _ ,” Holtz whines, pulling the blanket back over her head again.

 

True to her word, Erin returns in five minutes and finds that Holtz is up, standing beside the bed, still looking half-asleep and disoriented.

 

“See?” she mumbles, gesturing to herself. “Told you I'd get up.”

 

She stretches, twisting her body around, causing a series of pops from her cracking bones, reaching her arms up over her head.

 

“Good job,” Erin commends, focusing on Holtz’s face rather than the expanse of bare skin revealed by her raised arms and the already-cropped shirt that she's wearing. Her eyelids are heavy, eyes bleary, her frown making it clear that she  _ doesn't  _ want to be up.

 

“You okay?” Erin asks, by now used to Holtz’s very-awake presence in the morning. Holtz simply nods, bringing a hand up to rub at one eye.

 

“Tired,” she mumbles.

 

“Oh. Okay,” Erin nods, beginning to turn away.

 

She's fairly certain that for nearly a week now, Holtz has been going to bed even later than usual and waking up even earlier than usual in order to avoid her. She figures that it must finally be catching up to her, that the few hours of missing sleep must be what is making it so difficult to wake up this morning.

 

They've been completely ignoring what happened. After their date. For the most part, Erin is glad. She wouldn't even know how to explain what came over her. But she also can't help but notice the way that Holtz sits a little bit further away from her when they're on the couch together. Or how she only comes to bed after Erin's already asleep. 

 

And she  _ knows  _ that she did something stupid, she  _ knows  _ that it's her own fault and that she's gone and made Holtz uncomfortable, because sure, they're technically married, and sure, they made out a lot while they were drunk, and sure, they had a really nice date together, but they're  _ friends. Friends  _ pretending to be a couple, and Erin crossed a line that she shouldn't have crossed. Not when they need to peacefully coexist for another two months or so still. 

 

She’s glad that she was the first to wake up this morning. That she was the one to disentangle herself from Holtz rather than Holtz waking up first to find herself wrapped around Erin. She still remembers clearly Holtz's reaction to the last time they woke up too close to one another. She's certain that  _ this  _ would make Holtz even more uncomfortable. 

 

Holtz moves slowly. She shuffles around the apartment as she gets ready for the day, and Erin is certain that they won't be leaving on time. However, when it's time to go, Holtz is ready. Her hair is messier than usual and she still looks sleepy, but she's ready.

 

They walk close to each other on their way to work. They’ve done so every morning, trying to appear as much of a couple as they can manage. Each morning, Erin has the thought that they could be doing more, that they could be even closer, considers taking Holtz’s hand into her own. But she doesn’t. Not when she’s also trying to remain at a respectful and safe distance, not wanting to make Holtz uncomfortable. 

 

Sometimes their hands brush together as they walk. On accident. It happens this morning. Once. Twice. Three times. On the third time, Erin feels Holtz’s hand linger, letting them touch just a few seconds longer than usual, and she thinks that maybe Holtz will be the one to take hold and lace their fingers together.

 

But she doesn’t. She pulls her hand away, gives her a small smile, and they keep walking as normal.

 

She doesn’t see much of Holtz once they arrive at the firehouse. For the past few days, as soon as they get to work, Holtz disappears to the second floor and hardly emerges all day until Erin goes up to retrieve her and convinces her to leave. She doesn’t know  _ what,  _ exactly, she’s been working on, but it’s something new and it’s taking up most of her focus and Erin’s certain that if it wasn’t for the fact that they need to be seen together as much as possible, Holtz would probably be staying at the firehouse overnight to keep working. 

 

So, when Erin is ready to go home in the evening and she goes upstairs to get Holtz, she’s surprised to find her sitting behind one of her work tables, the entire upper half of her body slumped over it, resting her head atop her arms. She has a screwdriver in one hand and she taps the end of it repeatedly against the metal surface of the table and her eyes are wide behind her yellow lenses, her mouth twisted into a sort of scowl. Music plays in the background -- some sort of angry-sounding rock music with a wailing female voice. But Holtz is just sitting there, not even working on anything, and Erin approaches cautiously. 

 

“Um,” she mumbles, and Holtz looks up at her. She doesn’t stop tapping the screwdriver against the table and her expression doesn’t change. Her eyes just move up, landing on Erin. “Everything okay?”

 

She grunts and shrugs and it doesn’t answer the question, but Erin doesn’t push further.

 

“Are you...ready to go home?”

 

Holtz shrugs again and then abruptly drops the screwdriver onto the table with a loud clatter and stands up.

 

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” she grumbles, turning away brusquely and shutting her music off. Erin furrows her eyebrows in confusion as she watches the way Holtz moves -- jerky and stiff, a scowl still on her face. 

 

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” she presses.

 

“Everything’s  _ fine,”  _ Holtz answers, but her tone tells Erin otherwise. She turns again, facing Erin, and she looks at her. Erin watches as her features soften and her shoulders slump forward slightly and she lets out a sigh and gestures halfheartedly towards some of the equipment and machinery behind her. “I’m just-- it’s-- I fucking-- whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

 

“Are you having trouble with something you’re working on?” Erin guesses, trying to connect the limited dots. Holtz nods, frowning, looking away from her.

 

“It’s just-- I can’t-- I keep fucking up with-- I don’t, I don’t know, I can’t figure out--” she mumbles, stopping and letting out a frustrated-sounding groan, bringing a hand to rub at her eyes, jostling her glasses on her face, and she looks so small and sad, and it surprises Erin how strongly she feels the need to comfort her, even if she isn’t entirely sure how. 

 

“Hey, it’s okay. You’ll figure it out,” she assures her. “You always figure it out.”

 

Holtz nods and she’s still looking away from Erin, but she nods and lets out another small sigh.

 

“I think you might just be having an off day,” Erin says. 

 

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

 

“Let’s go home. You can sleep on it and start fresh tomorrow.”

 

“‘Kay,” Holtz agrees.

 

So, they go home. When they get there, Holtz kicks off her shoes immediately, tossing them aside, leaving them in the middle of the floor near the front door. It’s what she does. She takes her shoes off and leaves them in the middle of the floor. It isn’t new at all, but Erin feels herself  _ wince _ , looking at the shoes, frowning. And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it was just  _ one pair,  _ but by this point, there are multiple pairs of shoes scattered about  _ right in the entrance of the apartment.  _ She fights back the urge to comment on it -- just as she does every evening that it happens, but she must stare a little longer than usual, because when she looks back up, Holtz is standing there, looking at her.

 

“What?” Holtz asks, her voice lower than Erin is used to.

 

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head, offering a smile, but Holtz just narrows her eyes, surveying her.

 

“ _ What?”  _ she asks again.

 

“ _ Nothing,”  _ Erin repeats, but Holtz is just staring at her as if she’s waiting for a real answer, and her normal amused expression is gone, and she’s clearly not in the best mood, and Erin doesn’t want to answer, but she’s just  _ staring  _ at her, and she sighs, looking back at the shoes in the middle of the floor. “It’s just...do you have to leave ‘em  _ right there?” _

 

Holtz doesn’t say anything. She just continues to stare at her for a while before taking a step forward and then brushing past her as she walks towards her shoes on the floor and Erin turns in time to see her kick the shoes towards the wall and out of the way. She looks at Erin, eyebrows raised, frowning.

 

“Better?” she asks.

 

“Um… Yeah,” Erin nods.

 

“Anything else that I do wrong that you’d like to point out to me?” she continues, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Erin. Erin takes a cautious step back, away from Holtz, tilting her head to one side, looking at her, not quite understanding why she’s acting the way that she is. 

 

“Um…,” she mumbles, and Holtz closes her eyes and her expression changes instantly and she groans before opening her eyes again, looking apologetically at Erin.

 

“God, I am being  _ such a bitch,”  _ she whines. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I turn into such a monster when I’m--” she groans again. “You know, I’m just gonna go to bed. Yeah. I think it’s best for everyone involved if I just go to bed for the night.”

 

“Holtz, are you okay? Is something wrong?” Erin asks, concerned, watching as Holtz shuffles towards the bedroom.

 

“No, it’s… it’s not important,” she says dismissively. 

 

“What about food? Aren’t you hungry?” Erin asks her.

 

“No. It’s fine. I just wanna go to sleep,” she sighs heavily.

 

She pauses in the doorway. Erin still hasn’t moved from where she’s been standing, but she continues to look at Holtz and Holtz turns back to her with a frown.

 

“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I’m just…  _ Ugh.  _ Nevermind. I’m just gonna go to sleep. I’m sorry.”

 

“Okay,” Erin says, and she’s still completely confused, and it isn’t even seven in the evening yet but Holtz is going to bed and it doesn’t make any sense at all.

 

And she’s gotten so used to Holtz’s presence, especially in the evenings that it almost feels  _ lonely.  _ She reheats some leftover takeout and watches television by herself, and she misses the comments that Holtz makes when they watch television together, misses her laughter at every single stupid joke. And she knows it’s stupid because she’s just in the other room, but what had become to feel like an evening routine is now interrupted and Erin doesn’t like it very much.

 

She ends up going to bed earlier than usual, too.

 

When she wakes up, everything seems as if it’s all back to normal. Her alarm goes off and she’s alone in her bed which means that Holtz is already up. It feels normal. She hits the snooze button a few times before she finally sits up.

 

She hears the sound of soft music coming from the living room, but doesn’t think too much of it.

 

But when she leaves the bedroom, she stops in the doorway, taken aback by the sight in front of her.

 

Holtz is awake, but she isn’t getting ready to leave. Instead, she’s lying on the couch, her feet dangling over one of the arms, her face pressed into a cushion. She’s wearing leggings and a loose crop top, her bare lower back exposed, her hands and arms disappearing beneath her body, seemingly wrapped around her stomach. Her hair is down and as Erin’s eyes focus on her face, she realizes with a start that she’s  _ crying.  _ Her face is sideways but she can see the way a tear falls from the inner corner of her eye and slides over the bridge of her nose, dropping onto the sofa.

 

“Holtz,” she gasps. “What’s wrong?!”

 

Holtz glances up at her and lets out a small sniffle, taking a shaky breath. She rocks her body to one side, releasing an arm, and she gestures in front of her.

 

“It’s just…,” she begins, her voice weak. “Yitzhak loves Hedwig  _ so much,  _ but Hedwig is so used to being treated like shit that she doesn’t even realize that she  _ deserves  _ love. And it’s just  _ so sad.” _

 

Erin stares with a slightly opened mouth, not understanding  _ at all,  _ and she turns, looks at where Holtz just gestured, noticing that there’s something playing on the television, and then she looks back at Holtz.

 

“You’re crying at...a movie?” she asks, and Holtz simply nods, sniffling again.

 

“Not just  _ any  _ movie,” she says. “It’s  _ Hedwig.”  _

 

“Like… Harry Potter’s pet owl?”

 

“I appreciate the reference, but  _ no.  _ Angry Inch.”

 

“Angry...what?”

 

“Hedwig and the Angry Inch.”

 

“Oh…. Okay,” she says, looking at the television again and then back to Holtz. “Um… Why are you watching a movie? At seven in the morning? On a Friday?”

 

“Because I woke up early and wanted to watch it,” she says. 

 

“Are you...gonna get dressed?” she asks.

 

“No.”

 

“No?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“So...you’re...gonna wear that to work today?”

 

“No.”

 

“No?”

 

“I mean, I might get dressed  _ eventually,  _ but I’m gonna go in late today. Or maybe not at all. I don’t know. Haven’t decided yet.”

 

“Uh. Okay…,” Erin mumbles. “ _ Why _ ?”

 

“Because I’m dying,” she answers casually.

 

“I’m sorry,  _ what _ ?”

 

Holtz groans in response and then turns her head so that she’s completely face-down in the cushion, and she mumbles something that is so muffled and incoherent that Erin doesn’t catch a single word of it.

 

“Sorry, could you repeat that?”

 

“Mmf  _ mfff,  _ mmf mf mf  _ mmf-mf-mf.”  _

 

“Still didn’t get that.”

 

Holtz groans again and lifts her head, frowning up at Erin.

 

“I started my period and I feel like I'm dying,” she states clearly before dropping her head back down again.

 

“Oh. ... _ Ohh!”  _ Erin says, suddenly understanding, everything clicking into place, the entire previous day making so much more sense. “Oh! You were PMS-ing!”

 

“Mmhm,” Holtz nods with a grimace just barely noticeable from the way her head is positioned. “Sorry...about that, by the way. Once a month, I turn into a complete monster. Like a werewolf. But  _ not _ a werewolf. I  _ wish  _ it was because I'm a werewolf. That would be better. And way cooler. But instead, it's because I'm a person with a uterus that likes to throw a fucking hissy-fit and self-destruct every few weeks just because I didn't put a baby in it.”

 

She turns onto her side, her body curving as she looks down towards her own belly.

 

“Well, guess what, uterus?!” she shouts. “I'm  _ never _ putting a baby in you so you need to just calm the fuck down and accept the fact that you will remain empty forever, okay?!”

 

Erin laughs. She wants to be sympathetic -- she  _ is  _ sympathetic -- but she can't help but laugh. 

 

“Oh, god,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “It's been so long since I've had a period that I've almost completely forgotten what it's like.”

 

Holtz looks up at her. 

 

“I mean, I know you're old, but you're not menopausal already, are you?”

 

“First of all: fuck you,” Erin begins. “Second of all: I've been on birth control since my early thirties. And third of all: fuck you, again.”

 

“Oh,” Holtz laughs. “Right. That makes more sense. Sorry.”

 

“Anyways… Um. Do you need anything?” she offers.

 

“A Vicodin and an orgasm.”

 

“I was thinking more along the lines of something that I could pick up at Duane Reade.”

 

“Then, no,” she sighs heavily.

 

“What about your pot cookies? Isn't this what they're for?” she asks.

 

“Yeah. I've already had part of one. I'm still waiting for it to kick in,” she says.

 

“Okay. Good,” Erin nods. She glances at the television again. “What is this movie about?”

 

“You've never seen it?” Holtz asks.

 

“Nope,” she shakes her head. The video pauses and Holtz looks up at her.

 

“Watch it with me,” she says. “I'll start it from the beginning.”

 

“Um. I have to go to work,” Erin reminds her.

 

“Don't go. Skip it.”

 

“Skip work?”

 

“Yeah. Skip work and watch movies with me.”

 

“I can't do that, Holtz.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I… because I can't,” she says, shaking her head.

 

“Yeah, but  _ why? _ ” Holtz presses. “Give me an actual  _ reason.” _

 

“Because I… because it… it's my  _ job  _ and I can't… I…”

 

“Erin, we're basically our own bosses, y’know. Nobody’s gonna fire you for missing a day.”

 

“Yeah, but… but…”

 

“It would be  _ so easy.  _ Just text Abby and tell her that we both ate something weird and now we're sick and can't come in. It's completely plausible.”

 

“But…” Erin says yet again, but Holtz is looking up at her with big eyes, pushing her bottom lip out into a pout.

 

“ _ Pleeeaaase?” _

 

“I…” she mumbles. Holtz continues to look at her with  _ that face  _ and Erin is having a difficult time finding any other reasons to say no to her. She sighs. “ _ Fine.” _

 

A grin spreads over Holtz’s face and she reaches for the remote, stopping the movie, returning to the menu screen.

 

“Great. Come sit,” she says.

 

“You’re taking up the entire couch,” she points out.

 

“So?”

 

“So, where am I supposed to sit?”

 

“On the couch.”

 

“You gonna move over?”

 

“No.”

 

“I’m not really understanding.”

 

“Do you want the head-end or the foot-end?” Holtz asks.

 

“What?”

 

“You are going to sit on the couch, but because I am in the early stages of death, you’re just gonna have to deal with part of me on your lap. You can choose head or feet. Entirely up to you.”

 

“That doesn’t really seem fair.”

 

“It’s completely fair.”

 

“How is that--?” Erin begins, but realizes mid-sentence that there is no point in trying to argue or reason with Holtz. She sighs, taking a step closer to the couch. “Head-end.”

 

“Good choice,” Holtz says. “You should text Abby or Patty and tell them we’re not coming in first, though.”

 

“Why can’t you do it? This  _ is  _ your idea.”

 

“Because they’re more likely to actually believe you.”

 

“That’s a really good point.”

 

She goes back into the bedroom to grab her cell phone, composing a message to Abby as she walks back towards the living room. 

 

“You know, this is totally going to come back to bite us in the ass some day,” Erin says as she sends the text full of lies. 

 

“Not  _ me.  _ Just you. I actually don’t feel well. You’re the only one skipping work for no reason,” Holtz smiles up at her. Erin shakes her head, rolling her eyes.

 

“Shift over, Bluejay,” she says, enjoying the almost  _ shy  _ smile that spreads over Holtz’s face as she lifts herself up, freeing a space on the cushion for Erin to sit. She sits, and then Holtz is resting her head in Erin’s lap, facing out towards the television.

 

“Okay, you have to promise me that you'll pay full attention, okay?” 

 

“Hm?” Erin asks, momentarily distracted the new warm weight atop her legs, the way that the loose strands of hair tickle her bare thighs where her pajama shorts cut off.

 

“You have to pay full attention,” Holtz repeats. “To the movie.”

 

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

 

She starts the movie. It has barely even started when Holtz speaks again.

 

“Hey, Erin?” she says softly, sounding almost timid.

 

“Yeah?” 

 

"Um... could you like-- I mean, if you don't mind, because my head is already in your lap, but um, do you think you could, uh... like... scratch... my head?"

  
  
"Oh. Um. Yeah. Sure," she agrees, tentatively bringing one hand to Holtz's head, burying her fingers into soft blonde locks, letting her nails just graze over her scalp. Holtz lets out a low, content sigh.

  
  
"Harder," she says, and it's soft and breathy, and it sends a jolt straight through the entire middle of Erin's body that she (thankfully) doesn't have a chance to acknowledge before Holtz lets out a laugh. "That sounded dirty."

  
  
Erin simply scoffs, digging her nails a little bit harder against her head.

 

"Oh my god, that feels  _ so good _ ," Holtz groans, and it sends another jolt through Erin's body and she swallows hard, lets out a laugh of her own this time.

  
  
"That also sounded dirty," she comments, well aware of the slight strain in her own voice.

  
  
"Keep it in your pants, would ya, lady?" Holtz teases.  Erin laughs in response, despite the fact that she can feel her face grow warm, and she doesn't really understand it, doesn't really want to think about it, so she just forces herself to pay full attention to the opening of the movie, her fingers continuing to move in Holtz's hair.

 

She does as Holtz had asked and she pays full attention to the movie, still absentmindedly moving her nails along Holtz's scalp, feeling Holtz's hair in between her fingers. She momentarily gazes away from the television screen, looking down at her hand, twisting a strand of blonde around her index finger. She lets the strand fall off of her finger and then she repeats the action.

  
  
The movie is a musical and Holtz sings along softly to the songs, which Erin thinks that she would find annoying if it was anybody else doing it, but she enjoys the gentle murmur of Holtz's voice mixing with the recorded music. She also notices the way Holtz's lips silently move along with some of the dialogue. She can't help but wonder just how many times she's watched this movie.

  
  
They're still relatively early into the movie when a song begins that Erin is sure that she recognizes. She doesn't know how because she has never seen this before, has never heard the other songs, but she is positive that this one is familiar.

  
  
"I've got a sweet tooth for licorice drops and jelly roll," Hedwig sings on the screen, while Holtz sings softly from Erin's lap. "Hey, sugar daddy, Hansel needs some sugar in his bowl."

  
  
She's trying to place how she knows the song, but she's coming up blank.

  
  
"I've heard this before," she finally comments, thinking that maybe Holtz will know. She looks down at her, sees her lips twist into a smile.

  
  
"Oh, so you remember that?" she asks, but Erin is still confused. 

  
  
"Remember what?"

  
  
"Mm... maybe it'll come to you," she says. She's being frustratingly vague on purpose, and Erin frowns, looking at the television again.   


  
It's when Hedwig, performing the song in a restaurant full of bored-looking patrons, begins to climb over tables and booths, stopping in front of a man, hoisting one foot onto a ledge near his shoulder and moving her hips back and forth in front of his head, her fringed skirt hitting him repeatedly in the face and announcing "It's a car wash, ladies and gentlemen!" that Erin snorts out a loud laugh, the memory suddenly rushing back all at once.

  
  
It was right before they had moved into the firehouse. They were still above Zhu’s, packing up, getting ready to move. Erin's hair was still an embarrassingly bright shade of orange. Holtz was busy packing up, music playing at a low volume, wearing a tank top beneath her overalls, her hair limp and skin shiny from sweat. Erin sat in the booth in the corner, taking a break from the packing. She was mostly on her phone, but she would look up every so often to watch Holtz spinning and shimmying to whatever song happened to be playing.

  
  
And then she turned up the volume, dropping the packing all together, looking up at Erin and catching her eye, grinning at her as she danced.

  
  
"When honeybees go shoppin', it's something to be seen," Holtz sang out loud, gyrating her hips, still staring directly at Erin. And just like every other dance performance that Holtz seemed to do specifically for her, Erin found it hard to look away. "They swarm to wild flowers, get nectar for the queen.  And every gift you bring me got me drippin' like a honeycomb! If you've got some sugar for me, sugar daddy bring it home."

  
  
And then Holtz was jumping up onto the vinyl cushions of the booth, mumbling excitedly about how she'd "always wanted to do this" and before Erin really knew what was happening, Holtz was very, very close to her, and her legs were on either side of her, and she was moving her hips in front of her face.

  
  
"It's a car wash, ladies and gentlemen!" Holtz called out gleefully.

  
  
"What are you _doing_?! Get off-- get away, oh my god," Erin said, laughing even as she attempted to shove Holtz away from her.

  
  
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, the opportunity presented itself and I could resist," Holtz said, swinging a leg over Erin and then hopping off of the seat and back onto the floor.

  
  
Erin had almost completely forgotten about that -- would have continued to forget about it, but she laughs now, the memory as clear and vivid as if it just happened.

  
  
"I do remember," she tells Holtz. "It makes a lot more sense now that I know the origin of it."   


 

"It also probably would've made more sense if I'd had some sort of fringe on," Holtz comments.

  
  
"Yeah. That also may have helped," Erin agrees.

  
  
"Just one of my many poor attempts at flirting with you," Holtz sighs with a small shrug that Erin feels rather than sees. Erin's hand stills in Holtz's hair. 

  
  
It isn't like she's been completely oblivious to Holtz's actions towards her this entire time, since the very day they met, but they've never really actually acknowledged it for what it is. It's never been so blatantly referred to.  _ Flirting _ . They've never called it that. They've never called it  _ anything _ . They've never talked about what it is at all.

  
  
But now Holtz has said it so casually -- flippant, almost -- and it catches Erin off guard, and she stops moving her fingers through Holtz's hair, and the second that her hand stills, she feels Holtz's entire body tense up, and several seconds of silence pass between them, and Erin wishes that she had just laughed, made some sort of remark in return, had kept moving her hand, but instead, she had to get all awkward about it, and everything feels like it has shifted in a different direction.

  
  
"I'm sorry," Holtz mumbles out, her voice soft, and Erin barely hears it over the sound of the movie. "Probably... probably shouldn't say stuff like that."

  
  
"It's-- it's okay," Erin says. Because what else is she supposed to say? "It's-- I mean... you do that kind of stuff with everyone."

  
  
Her hand is still not moving and Holtz's body is still stiff and Erin takes a breath and her chest feels strangely constricted as she manages out a hesitant "Right?"

  
  
Holtz doesn't respond right away. A few seconds pass before her body relaxes again and she nods, lets out a very soft sigh.

  
  
"Right," she replies weakly. "I do that kind of stuff with everyone."

  
  
Erin isn't sure what she expected to feel from that confirmation, and she also isn't sure what she  _ is  _ feeling. 

  
  
It feels an awful lot like disappointment. 

  
She forces her fingers to move again, tracing figures with her nails along Holtz's scalp, pushing everything to the very back of her mind, not letting herself think about it. 

 

They don’t speak again for a long time. They just watch the movie, and Holtz goes back to singing along quietly and Erin is beginning to feel a little bit too warm with Holtz on her lap, but she doesn’t have the heart to ask her to move -- doesn’t really  _ want  _ her to move, so she endures it.

 

By the time the movie ends, there has been a steady trickle of tears dropping from Holtz’s face and onto Erin’s lap for several minutes. She doesn’t say anything about it, but she notices it, finds it strangely endearing that Holtz is the type to cry over a movie that she has some sort of emotional attachment to. She wouldn’t have guessed that she would be, but she thinks that she’s glad to have been proven wrong. 

 

As the end credits roll, they still don't speak, but Erin watches as Holtz lifts a hand, wiping at her cheeks. And then she shifts, turning so that she's looking straight up at Erin from her lap. And Erin looks down at her, noticing a shiny wet trail and a stray teardrop that she must have missed. She brings a hand to Holtz's face, gently wiping it away for her, and Holtz's lips turn up into a smile. 

  
  
"Do you cry every time you watch this movie?" she asks her. Holtz laughs softly and nods.

  
  
"It just  _ gets _ me," she says. "But you'd better not go around and tell everyone that I'm a big softy, okay? I have a reputation to uphold."

  
  
"Oh, you do?" Erin laughs. "And what reputation is that?"

  
  
"Uh, a reputation as a total badass,  _ duh _ ."

  
  
"Right. Of course," she says. "Well, for what it's worth, I kind of like seeing you all soft."

  
  
"You  _ do _ ?" Holtz gasps.

  
  
"Mmhm," Erin nods, running her fingers through Holtz's hair, smoothing it back from her forehead, looking down at her smile and her eyes, feeling a sort of twisting sensation in the pit of her stomach. "I think it's cute."

  
  
Holtz smiles a bit wider, and she glances away from Erin.

  
  
"You think I'm  _ cute _ ?" she asks, her tone teasing.

  
  
" _ That _ is  _ not _ what I said," she replies, rolling her eyes.

  
  
"But it's what you  _ meant _ ," she grins up at her. "You think I'm cute."

  
  
"Shut up," Erin laughs. "I take it back. I do not think that you or anything about you is cute."

  
  
"Mmhm. Okay.  _ Sure _ ."

 

Erin laughs again and shakes her head but doesn’t bother trying to come up with another response. They fall back into silence.

 

"I think about the Origin of Love a lot," Holtz says quietly, and it's sort of out of the blue and it almost sounds as if she's admitting some sort of secret. 

  
  
"That was one of the songs, right?" Erin asks and Holtz nods.

  
  
"Yeah. One of the ones at the beginning. About how people used to be stuck together until the gods ripped them apart."

  
  
"Right. Yeah. I remember."

  
  
"Do you believe in stuff like that?" Holtz asks her.

  
  
"What, that that happened?"   


  
"Not necessarily that it  _ happened _ ," she clarifies. "But just like, the whole concept... that every person has one other person who is their perfect match... who they're supposed to be with?"

  
  
She isn't looking at Erin. She's staring past her, towards the ceiling, her eyes slightly unfocused, and Erin smiles.

  
  
"You're stoned, aren't you?"

  
  
"Yes. I have been since like, ten minutes into the movie," she says. "But I still think about this even when I'm not."

  
  
"Okay, well...," Erin sighs. "I don't know if I believe in that. It's a nice concept but it's... I mean, scientifically--"

  
  
"Not  _ everything  _ has to be scientific," Holtz interrupts.

  
  
"You're a scientist."

  
  
"Yes, but still. That doesn't mean that I'm not open to the possibilities of things that science can't explain. If I wasn't, I doubt I'd be doing what I do for a living."

  
  
"Fair point," Erin nods. "So does that mean that you  _ do  _ believe in it?"

  
  
"I dunno," she shrugs. "Like you said, it's a nice concept. But it's also scary."

  
  
"Scary?"

  
  
"Well, yeah. I mean, there are so many people in the world.  _ So many _ . And there's no  _ scientific  _ way to find or know that you've found this theoretical perfect match. So you have to rely on, I don't know, fate I guess, if you believe in  _ that.  _ Or chance or coincidence or whatever. Being in the right place at the right time or, I don't know, knowing somebody who knows somebody, or something that pushes you towards them…. But there are so many people and the world is so big, you know? Like, geographically, it’s really really large. So, if you’re  _ here,  _ but this other person is all the way over  _ there,  _ the chances of finding each other are slim, right? So it’s up to fate or chance or coincidence or whatever, and if you think of life as just a series of events that are all linked together -- which it is -- and one tiny thing could mess up the series of events that could lead you to that person, you know? Like, one little difference could change  _ everything,  _ and it’s all just a big bunch of what-ifs, and okay, sure, maybe things happen the way that they’re supposed to, but there is so much room for error in this scenario and we, as humans, are fucking stupid and are bound to fuck things up so like, it’s really an impractical situation. You know what I mean?”

 

She says it all with barely a single pause, and Erin can only stare at her, trying to process all of her slightly-monotonous words, and a laugh slips past her lips.

 

“I... _ what?” _

 

“What? What part did I lose you on?”

 

“Um...pretty much the whole thing,” she admits. Holtz sighs.

 

“I just wonder how many people  _ do  _ come across their perfect match -- assuming that it’s real or even a possibility -- and just don’t even know it or mess it up somehow. Or how many people never find them, or give up on finding them and settle for somebody else instead. Because, I mean, even in the song, they were connected back-to-back, so they couldn’t see each other to begin with, so did they even know what they were looking for? So how did they  _ know?  _ How does  _ anyone  _ know?”

 

“I don’t know,” Erin says.

 

“I don’t know which I prefer -- that any number of people could be a perfectly okay match or that one single person in the entire world is a perfect match. I think that no matter what, it’s entirely possible that the end result is immense loneliness.” 

 

“How much  _ do  _ you think about this?” Erin asks, peering down at her and at the line between her furrowed brows and the curve of her lips as she frowns.

 

“I dunno,” she shrugs. “Every so often.”

 

“Are you… are you  _ worried  _ that you won’t find…” Erin begins, but then trails off, not sure how to phrase the rest of the question. But Holtz understands.

 

“No. I don’t know,” she says with a soft sigh. “It’s stupid.”

 

“It isn’t stupid,” Erin says. “It’s a little surprising that you’ve thought about this so much, though.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Well, I don’t know. You’ve said yourself that you don’t even do relationships.”

 

“I know. You’re right,” she says. “That’s part of what worries me.”

 

“What is?”

 

“That I’m so bad at that kind of stuff. I  _ know  _ that I’m no good at it. So, I don’t know, what if… what if I found somebody who I thought might be perfect for me but… but I’m not good enough for her?”

 

She mumbles her words, speaking barely above a whisper, and she’s staring up at the ceiling. Erin realizes that her hand is still entwined in Holtz’s hair, even though she hasn’t moved it in a while. It’s just resting there. She looks at her, sees her all soft and vulnerable and it’s so different her usual self, but not in a bad way at all.

 

“Well, that’s just absurd,” she tells her. “There’s no way you wouldn’t be good enough for somebody.”

 

Holtz smiles shyly, but she still doesn’t look at Erin.

 

“You’re just saying that because you’re my wife,” she says. 

 

“No, I am not,” she insists, laughing softly. “I promise.”

 

Holtz continues to smile, and then she sighs.

 

“You know, it’s your turn to pick which movie we watch next,” she says, changing the subject.

 

“It is?” Erin asks.

 

“Yep. That’s how it works.”

 

“Okay,” she nods. 

 

“It’d better be a good one, though. If you pick a bad movie, I’m divorcing you.”

 

“So, no pressure, then?”

 

“Nope,” Holtz grins. “None at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are links to the songs that were referenced in this chapter, in case you're not familiar with them!  
> [Origin of Love.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c3oSc8gMrGo)  
> [Sugar Daddy.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ef6M4sPrr8g)
> 
> (Also, have you ever noticed that there are TWO Hedwig advertisements in the backgrounds of parts of Ghostbusters? One is on a cab and the other is a poster on a building wall. And like, that movie wasn't filmed in New York which means that this was a CONSCIOUS DECISION by SOMEONE (the set designer??? maybe???) and like, I think about this A LOT.)


	10. Chapter 10

It’s almost laughable that it happens, because  _ of course  _ it happens. In fact, Holtz does laugh. A lot. 

 

“You were right,” she says, pulling her shoes on early Saturday morning. “Ditching work _did_ come back to bite us in the ass.”

 

“I didn't realize it would happen  _ so soon, _ ” Erin sighs as she hastily pulls her hair back, grabbing her keys as they leave the apartment together. She locks the door behind them. “Besides, I thought you said it wouldn't affect you?”

 

“Oh, you're still gonna get the worst of it,” she assures her.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“It means  _ slime,  _ Erin,” she grins, slowly running her fingers down Erin’s back in an imitation of dripping slime. Erin shudders, pulling away and glaring at her.

 

“This is your fault,” she says.

 

“You're probably right.”

 

Erin hails a cab and they climb in, and it isn't long before they're at the firehouse.

 

Abby is already in her jumpsuit, loading up the car on her own while a groggy-looking Patty simply watches.

 

“It's too damn early for this shit, man,” she grumbles, taking a long sip from her coffee mug. Holtz follows Erin in to go get changed, grabbing a clean jumpsuit from where they're hung. 

 

The bust is in the basement of a bar in the Lower East Side and the owner meets them upstairs to explain the situation.

 

“We just moved in last week,” she says. “Nobody’s used the space for years. We had our first show here last night and weird shit kept happening. Little things at first, but one of our girls does an aerial act and one of her silks was just cut clean  _ during  _ her performance. Thank god she wasn't far from the ground when it happened. She was fine but shaken as hell. And now, um… well… it's gotten worse.”

 

There's the clear sound of things being thrown around downstairs. Holtz lifts an eyebrow, looking at the woman in front of them.

 

“Nobody’s down there?” she asks.

 

“Nobody that's alive,” she answers, making eye contact with Holtz, her gaze lingering long after she's spoken.

 

“Sounds like there's more than one,” Abby comments.

 

“Oh, yeah, there's definitely more than one,” the woman says, still not tearing her eyes away from Holtz. And Holtz is staring right back at her because it's almost a natural response at this point. The woman is undeniably attractive -- tan skin and dark hair piled messily atop her head, bangs swept to one side, dark eyes staring straight at Holtz. 

 

“Patty? Any ideas?” Erin says from beside Holtz, and her voice makes Holtz finally snap her eyes away from the woman in front of her.

 

“Not much to go off of, but based on our location and how old this building is? It’s possible that we're about to meet some old, pissed off, dead mafia guys.”

 

“Ooh,  _ exciting,”  _ Holtz grins. 

 

“Well,” Abby says. “Let's get to it, shall we?”

 

They do, leaving the owner upstairs as they head down. Posters line the wall of the staircase heading into the basement advertising weekly burlesque and cabaret shows. Holtz pauses and points to one of them.

 

“We should go to this,” she says very seriously.

 

“Come  _ on _ ,” Erin says, rolling her eyes. As they approach the door, the noises inside grow louder, and then they stop completely. Abby’s in the lead and she pushes the door open to a dark, empty room, the light from the staircase just bright enough to be able to make out several tables and chairs -- mostly upturned and strewn about. There’s a stage at the far end of the room and a bar along the side. 

 

“Can we turn on a damn light?” Patty asks. 

 

“Yeah, hold on I think she said the switch was--” Abby says, and then the room is filled with light.  

 

“What, you’re hiding now?” Holtz calls out to the empty room. 

 

“It’s not a big place. They can't be hiding very well,” Abby points out. 

 

“Should we check out backstage?” Erin asks.

 

“Yeah,” Abby nods. “Let's split up, though. Two of us should stay out here in case they decide they wanna start throwing shit around again.”

 

“Erin and I will go,” Holtz offers, already heading off towards the stage. Erin follows quickly behind her.

 

It isn't much of a _backstage_. The stage itself isn't much, one wing leading to a dead end and the other wing leading towards a door. Inside is a small, narrow room with a counter and chairs and a few mirrors, a garment rack shoved into one corner. Erin flicks the light on. For the most part, the room looks untouched by ghosts. It's cluttered and messy, but it appears to be the work of untidy showgirls rather than paranormal entities. 

 

“Hey. Hey. Erin.  _ Erin,”  _ Holtz says, getting her attention. Erin looks at her and Holtz grins, picking up a pair of nipple tassels from atop the counter and holding them against her own breasts. 

 

“What do ya think?” she asks, shimmying her upper half to make the tassels move. 

 

“ _ Holtzmann _ ,” Erin scolds, shaking her head. “Come on.”

 

“How do they make ‘em spin around?” she mumbles to herself, moving her body more vigorously than before.

 

“Can you put those down? They don't belong to you,” Erin says. 

 

“ _ Fine,”  _ she sighs, dropping them back down on the counter. Then she gasps, something else catching her attention, and she grabs for a set of large feather fans, letting them both fall open in front of her body and she laughs as she begins to dance with them.

 

“ _ Holtzmann!  _ Oh my god, do you  _ have  _ to touch  _ everything?” _

 

“D’ya think I'd be good at burlesque?” Holtz asks instead, ignoring Erin’s scolding, continuing to dance, moving the feather fans around her body.

 

“Do  _ you  _ think that you could stop messing around and actually focus on what we’re supposed to be doing?”

 

“I  _ could,”  _ she nods, but doesn't stop dancing, and instead moves closer to Erin, extending her arms holding the feather fans out so that they brush against Erin’s arms. Erin just stands there, arms crossed over her chest, watching Holtz with an unamused expression. Holtz moves her arms out and back in repeatedly, softly hitting Erin with the fans each time she moves them back in, moving her hips as she hums a tune, and she watches Erin’s face, watches the way the corners of her mouth twitch upwards, and she’s trying  _ so hard  _ to keep herself from smiling and it just makes Holtz try even harder to  _ make  _ her smile. 

 

“Holtz,” Erin says. Holtz spins around, flourishing the fans, but Erin still doesn’t crack. Finally, Holtz sighs, dropping the fans back down on the counter.

 

“You win,” she says. “ _ This time.” _

 

“Okay, thanks, I guess,” Erin says. “I don’t think there are any ghosts in here.”

 

“No, it doesn’t seem like it,” Holtz agrees, strolling towards the corner of the small room, near the garment rack.

 

“Do not touch those costumes,” Erin warns just as Holtz lifts a hand towards a bejeweled bra hanging on the rack.

 

“But--” she protests.

 

"Holtz. No. Come on," she says, turning away, back towards the door that they came in from.

 

"But! Erin!  _ Erin _ !"

 

Erin turns to face her again just as Holtz has pulled a rhinestone-fringe belt/skirt-type thing from a hanger, wrapping it around her hips while moving her lower half back and forth.  And  _ finally _ , Erin cracks a smile, letting out a soft laugh.

 

"Car wash?" she asks, raising her eyebrows. Holtz grins, nodding, still moving her body.

 

"It's a car wash!" she exclaims.

 

"Okay, have you had your fun now?"

 

"Yes. Yes, I have," Holtz says, putting the thing back on the hanger she got it from. It’s then that there’s a cacophony of noise from the other side of the door. It's the unmistakable sound of chairs and tables being thrown around once more, shattering glass, and a loud yell from Patty.

 

"Shit," Holtz says, rushing towards the door where Erin is already swinging it open. They run out, finding Abby and Patty outnumbered by ghosts, the room in chaos as chairs and tables fly. 

 

It isn’t an easy job. There are five ghosts and they’re clever, tricky, and violent. Holtz finds herself ducking and dodging out of the way of flying furniture while still attempting to aim her weapon at the closest ghost. She barely even knows what the other three are doing, other than occasional blur as one passes by her, or the light of a proton stream, or a shout of profanity. 

 

She feels a tug on her arm and then a hand on her shoulder, shoving her down, and she falls onto the floor just as a silvery, translucent, ghost-bullet whizzes past above her, right where she just stood. She turns to see the ghost with the gun, a large bearded man in a suit, and her eyes widen.

 

“They have  _ guns _ ?!” she exclaims. “Do ghost-bullets have the same effect as real bullets?”

 

“Let’s try to  _ not  _ find out,” Erin says from beside her as she reaches down to help Holtz back up. They both aim at the gun-yielding ghost at the same time, catching him in their streams, but he’s too strong for just the two of them and he breaks free. 

 

They’re at it for an hour, maybe more. Abby’s proton pack is destroyed and she’s reduced to just her side-arms. Holtz has been hit with furniture pieces, slammed into walls, can feel bruises forming all over her body. There’s slime -- a lot of it. Mostly on the floor, but they each have at least  _ some  _ on their jumpsuits or in their hair. They’re down to just two ghosts now. Just as Holtz and Patty are finishing up with one of them, there is the loud, grotesque sound of something splattering, followed by Erin’s voice, letting out a frustrated yell.

 

“ _ Come on!” _

 

Holtz turns, knowing what she’s going to see before she sees it. Erin stands there, covered head-to-toe in ectoplasm, dripping from her outstretched arms, and she breathes heavily, turns her head, glaring at Holtz.

 

“ _ Your fault,”  _ she growls, pointing at her.

 

They manage to catch the fifth ghost shortly after, all four of them panting heavily and clutching onto various parts of their bodies. 

 

“ _ Fuck,”  _ Abby groans, pulling her proton pack off of her back. There is smoke emitting from it while parts of it that  _ shouldn’t  _ be dangling are  _ definitely  _ dangling. It’s in bad shape. Holtz grimaces, hating to see one of her babies in such a state, but also already figuring out in her mind how to repair it. 

 

“Okay, mine started doin’ something weird, too,” Patty comments, and Holtz looks over at her, not  _ seeing  _ anything out of the ordinary, but trusting her that something is likely wrong with it.

 

“This got like, lodged with slime,” Erin comments with a sigh, holding out her proton gun. “It stopped working at the end there.”

 

“Okay. It’s fine. I’ll fix them,” Holtz assures them all. 

 

“Can we go? I need to shower for the next six hours,” Erin grumbles.

 

“Yeah. Come on,” Patty nods. 

 

They hobble back up the stairs, moving slowly until they’re in the bar once more. There are people outside. People with cameras. Erin groans.

 

“I’m sorry about the slime,” Holtz mumbles to her, and she’s  _ trying  _ very hard to sound serious, like she’s  _ not  _ on the verge of laughter, but she knows she’s not doing a very good job of it. “You know, I _was_ just  joking  when I said that thing about you getting the worst of it. I didn’t _actually_ think it would really happen.”

 

“Holtz,” Erin says, and she stops walking. So does Holtz, turning to look at her. Erin doesn’t say anything. She simply takes her hand, scooping a generous amount of slime off of her jumpsuit and then wiping her hand across Holtz’s face. Holtz’s mouth falls open as the slime drips down the side of her face, and Erin smiles.

 

“Feel better?” Holtz asks her.

 

“A little bit, yeah,” she nods.

 

“You wanna do it again?”

 

“I kind of do,” she admits. “Can I?

 

But she doesn’t wait for an answer before plopping another dollop of slime right onto Holtz’s head. Holtz grimaces and shudders, the feeling of the cold goo running down her scalp uncomfortable and unsettling.

 

“Okay. That’s enough.”

 

“I feel much better now, thank you.”

 

“You're welcome.”

 

When they turn to continue walking forward, Abby and Patty are already speaking with the owner, who thanks them profusely. 

 

“And listen, you guys should come back later. Drinks, food, everything, all on me. Okay?”

 

“Maybe,” Abby smiles.

 

“Well, I’ll be here, okay?”

 

They hurry out of the place and into the car, not wanting to deal with the crowd of people when they’re all at least partially covered in slime. When they get back to the firehouse, Erin practically runs inside, towards a shower, trailing droplets of slime behind her. 

 

It’s nearly an hour later before Erin emerges again. Holtz has already showered the slime off of her (and truthfully, installing multiple  _ good  _ showers in the firehouse was easily the best possible way to spend a large chunk of their government funding) and she’s in her lab, broken equipment on the table in front of her. She hasn’t actually done anything yet. She’s mostly just staring, figuring out a game plan.

 

“Apparently, I get slimed so often that I have run out of spare clothing here,” Erin announces as she walks towards where Holtz is standing.

 

“Does that mean that when I look up, you’re gonna be naked?” Holtz asks, glancing at her. Erin rolls her eyes. She’s not naked. Holtz  _ knew  _ that she wasn’t going to be naked, but she  _ didn’t  _ know that she would find Erin standing there in one of  _ her  _ t-shirts.

 

“I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t have anything else,” she says.

 

“No. Nope. It’s...it’s…,” she swallows hard, forces a friendly smile onto her face. “It looks good on you.” 

 

“You’re not gonna start working on these right now, are you?” Erin asks, nodding towards the damaged weapons on the table. “It’s  _ Saturday.”  _

 

“Yeah, so? It’s gotta get done,” Holtz says.

 

“It can wait ‘til Monday.”

 

“What if we get another ghost call tomorrow?” Holtz asks.

 

“Then…,” Erin begins, then she smiles and shrugs. “I don’t know. But Abby was thinking we could go back to that place for food. The owner-lady said she’d take care of it.”

 

“Yeah, but…,” Holtz frowns down at her work.

 

“You haven’t eaten anything yet today.”

 

“That’s not true,” Holtz says. “I found an old Starburst in my pocket on our way here this morning.”

 

“That doesn’t count. Also, that’s gross.”

 

“It was still in its wrapper.”

 

“Still… Kind of gross,” she says. “Come on. We had a pretty rough morning. We should unwind.”

 

She has a point. Holtz sighs and then nods.

 

“Okay,” she agrees, abandoning the work on the table.

 

It’s late afternoon when they return to the bar from before. They’ve all changed back into their usual attire, except for Erin who still wears Holtz’s t-shirt. They slide into a booth, Holtz sitting beside Erin. 

 

"I'm so glad you guys made it back!"

 

The owner stands in front of their booth, smiling at them.

 

"Do you mind if I join you?"

 

"No, not at all," Abby says. "Please, feel free."

 

She sits down next to Holtz.

 

"I don't think I properly introduced myself before," she says. "I'm Carmen."

 

"Nice to officially meet you," Holtz grins, twisting her body and holding her hand out towards her. "Holtzmann."

 

"Holtzmann," she repeats, shaking her hand and holding their eye contact, smiling. The other three quickly introduce themselves as well, but Carmen mostly keeps her eyes on Holtz.

 

"So, listen, I don't know  _ what  _ happened downstairs today -- I don't know if I  _ want  _ to know -- but I know that you guys kicked some major ghost ass and I have  _ mad  _ respect for you all."

 

"Thank you," Holtz says. "So...do you own this whole place or just the downstairs part?"

 

"I actually don't  _ own  _ any of it," she says, leaning her chin on her hand, inching just slightly closer towards Holtz. "I'm renting out the basement. Apparently this place has had a ghost problem for ages, but since they mostly stayed up here while the ghosts stayed down there, the actual owner never really cared."

 

"I see," Holtz nods. "So you rent out the basement specifically for burlesque and cabaret shows?"

 

"Mmhm," she smiles.

 

"How'd you get into that?"

 

"I'd been doing burlesque for about ten years before I decided to run my own show," she explains, still smiling, biting down softly on her bottom lip. "It's been a couple years now of doing it in whatever space would let us in. Now we have a permanent place."

 

"So,  _ you  _ did burlesque?"

 

"Yep."

 

"Do you still do it?"

 

"Sometimes."

 

“ _ Interesting.”  _

 

"Hey," Erin's voice cuts sharply through the conversation. "Why don't we like...get some food or something?"

 

"Oh, yeah, absolutely," Carmen agrees. "Why don't I get us all a round of drinks. Is beer okay with everyone?"

 

"Yeah," they all nod.

 

"I'll be right back," she grins, sliding out of the booth and walking towards the bar. Holtz can't help but watch her go -- the sway of her hips, the way her tank top hangs loose and low, showing off the lacy bra beneath.

 

"Flirt a little harder, I don't think she quite got it," Erin mutters under her breath.

 

"What?" Holtz asks, turning to look at her. She looks thoroughly annoyed, but she smiles -- a forced smile -- and shakes her head.

 

"Nothing," she says.

 

"Okay...."

 

She looks at Abby and Patty who are pointedly looking elsewhere, and then back at Erin who is back to looking annoyed.

 

"So, those ghosts today were pretty rough, huh?" Holtz says, needing to fill the silence with something. "What was with that one guy? The one with the gun? Where did  _ that  _ come from?"

 

"Man, I saw you almost get hit with that gun," Patty says.

 

"Erin got me out of the way in time, though," she grins over at Erin, who gives her a small but genuine smile.

 

Carmen returns with a pitcher of beer, sitting down beside Holtz again.  They order food. They talk -- all of them, Carmen asking a lot of questions about their work, and all four of them happily answering. Holtz is about halfway through a plate of nachos when she makes a joke and Carmen laughs, her hand falling lightly on top of Holtz's on the table. Her fingers graze along the inside of her wrist, and Holtz glances at her, and she's already looking back, smiling, and Holtz  _ knows  _ that look. She  _ knows  _ the look that Carmen is giving her -- all smoldering eyes and playful smile. And under normal circumstances, she'd give it right back.

 

But it's the first time since she's been married to Erin that she's being hit on and she isn't entirely sure how to handle it. She doesn't even  know  _how_ to reject a woman's advances. She's never done it before. She's never had any reason to.

 

"So you build everything -- all of the weapons, all of it?" Carmen asks, her fingers still moving against her wrist.

 

"Yeah. Well, I mean, some of the ideas are teamwork, but...."

 

"But you do all the actual building?"

 

"Right."

 

"So, you must be pretty good with your hands, then."

 

It's  _ so  _ forward. Holtz clearly sees the way Patty's eyebrows shoot up, the way Abby covers up a laugh by pressing her hand to her mouth, and in her peripheral, she sees Erin's mouth drop open, sees her turn her head, looking at the two of them.

 

And under normal circumstances, Holtz would absolutely play along, but the circumstances are not normal and she has no idea how to respond, so she simply laughs.

 

"Yeah, I uh...I guess so."

 

Carmen just smiles at her, keeps touching her.

 

"You  _ know  _ that she's  _ married _ , right?" Erin says very suddenly and very loudly and it makes Holtz jump, not having expected it, and Carmen lifts her brows just slightly, slowly lifts and moves her hand away from Holtz's.

 

"Um... No," she mumbles. "No, I did not."

 

"She's _ wearing a ring _ ," Erin points out, her tone not even  _ close  _ to friendly.

 

"...And gloves," Carmen says, nodding her head towards Holtz’s hands. She looks at her own hands, and it’s true. She’s wearing fingerless gloves, completely covering the ring on her left hand.

 

“...Oh,” Erin says softly. “Well...still. She’s married.”

 

“I am very sorry,” Carmen says directly to Holtz. “I didn’t know.”

 

“It’s…,” she begins, not sure what to say. She shrugs, offering her a smile. “Honest mistake.”

 

“Right,” Carmen agrees.

 

Beside Holtz, Erin pushes away her plate of fries, looks away, scowling.

 

“I don’t know how you couldn’t know. It’s been  _ everywhere,”  _ Erin says.

 

“I’m sorry...what’s been everywhere?” Carmen asks.

 

“That we’re married.”

 

“That…  _ oh.  _ Oh my god.  _ You  _ are...to each other?”

 

“ _ Yes.” _

 

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. Really. I really had no idea.”

 

“It’s okay,” Holtz her. “You didn’t know. It’s not a big deal. Right, Erin? It’s not a big deal?”

 

She turns to look at Erin, slightly bewildered by her behaviour because it almost seems like she’s  _ jealous,  _ except that doesn’t make any sense at all. Erin simply glares at her.

 

“Sure,” Erin says. “Whatever.”

 

“I’m really embarrassed, oh my god, I’m sorry,” Carmen continues. “Really, I just… I just wouldn’t have guessed that you two...would...be….”

 

“Why not?” Erin asks.

 

“Oh, I mean, it’s just...it’s not obvious, you know?” she says. “Look, I… I think it’s probably a good idea if I...leave you guys...and um...yeah, I should go. I’m sorry. Again. Really. Um. Stay as long as you’d like and everything’s on me and...thank you again for the...getting rid of the ghosts.”

 

She leaves and an awkward silence hangs over all four of them. Holtz stares down at her food. She feels Erin sitting very still and rigid beside her. She isn’t sure of what to say or what to do. 

 

“So, uh,” Patty finally speaks. “Should we maybe...give y’all a moment?”

 

“No,” Erin responds automatically. Holtz doesn’t say anything.

 

“Okay…,” Patty says hesitantly. “Well, I...actually...need to use the restroom. So...I’ll be back.”

 

“Yeah, you know, I...I  _ also  _ have to use the restroom,” Abby says. “I guess...I guess that’s what I have to do. It’s the only thing I can think of to get me away from here.”

 

They both hurry away from the booth and Holtz and Erin are left alone.

 

“Erin,” Holtz says softly. Erin turns to her, leans in closer and begins to speak in a hushed voice.

 

“I just  _ don’t  _ think it’s very wise of you to be  _ flirting  _ with some random girl so openly in  _ public,”  _ she hisses. “What if somebody  _ saw?  _ What if she went off and  _ told people _ ? You could completely blow this whole thing.”

 

“Oh,” Holtz mumbles, then nods. “Yeah. You’re right.”

 

“I mean, she was  _ all over you.  _ And you did  _ nothing  _ about it. Any one of these people in here could have taken a picture of that!”

 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

 

“Were you not thinking about any of that?!”

 

“I guess I wasn’t,” she admits. 

 

“Well, you  _ should… _ think about...those things,” Erin says. Holtz nods again.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“We have to be  _ careful.”  _

 

“I know.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“That’s…,” Holtz hesitates, forcing herself to ask the question, forcing her voice to remain neutral, “That’s all this is about?”

 

“Yes,” Erin says.

 

“Okay.”

 

They fall silent. Holtz glances towards where Abby and Patty disappeared, hoping that they’ll be back soon. Erin shifts beside her, and Holtz sees the way she stares down at the table, runs her index finger along the edge of it. 

 

“Um,” Erin says softly. “If you, um…. If we...weren’t married… would you have slept with her?”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m just wondering,” she shrugs.

 

“I…,” Holtz says, looking at her. She’s looking down at the table, but then lifts her eyes to meet Holtz’s, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.”

 

“It’s a yes or no question.”

 

“Um…. Probably,” she admits. Erin only nods.

 

“I figured,” she says. “She is really pretty.”

 

Holtz doesn’t know how to respond, so she doesn’t.

 

“I’m sorry that you can’t sleep with her.”

 

“Erin, I don’t  _ want  _ to sleep with her.”

 

“You  _ just  _ said that you would.”

 

“Yeah, I  _ would.  _ That doesn’t mean that I  _ want  _ to.”

 

“So, you  _ would  _ sleep with her, but you don’t  _ want  _ to sleep with her?”

 

“Well, I don’t  _ not  _ want to, but I don’t  _ want--  _ I mean-- it’s...it’s… just because I  _ would  _ doesn’t mean that I  _ want to.” _

 

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“Yes, it does,” she argues. “Like, I  _ would  _ eat a month-old Starburst that I found in my pants pocket that I’m  _ pretty  _ sure went through the wash because it kind of tasted like laundry detergent, but that doesn’t mean that I  _ want  _ to do that.”

 

“You’re comparing Carmen to the Starburst that you found in your pocket?”

 

“It’s the first thing I thought of.”

 

“But you  _ did  _ eat the Starburst.”

 

“Yes,” she agrees. “Because it was there. But if I also had like, a package of Skittles, I would  _ want  _ the Skittles and I wouldn’t really think about the Starburst anymore.”

 

“So, what are the Skittles in this metaphor?”

 

“Um. I don’t know. Possibly  _ actual  _ Skittles. I love Skittles.”

 

“You would give up sex with a beautiful woman for Skittles? Is that what you’re saying?”

 

“I would do a lot of things for Skittles.”

 

“That’s…,” Erin begins, and then she laughs, shaking her head. “You’re so weird.”

 

“I mean, either way, I still get to taste the rainbow, right?” she jokes, throwing in a wink.

 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Erin groans. “I think that might be the _worst_ joke I’ve _ever_ heard.”

 

“Oh, is it the worst joke you’ve ever heard?” she grins. “Then why are you smiling?”

 

“I’m not,” she says, but she is.

 

By the time that Abby and Patty return to the table, Holtz and Erin are laughing and joking as if nothing even happened. They don't mention the subject again.

 

*

 

The music was loud, thrumming through the building, through the crowd of people in the center of the dancefloor. The beat of whatever song was playing vibrated through Holtz’s entire body, and she moved with it, moved with the rest of the crowd, the air around them hot and thick, and bodies bumped into one another, kept moving to the music.

 

Erin had her arms raised above her head, her eyes closed, head slightly thrown back, and her body moved in a way that Holtz had never seen it move before. Uninhibited. Free. Her skin gleamed with sweat, her bangs pushed to one side and sticking to her forehead.

 

They were close. It was impossible to  _ not  _ be close. And with everybody around them also wearing white, it would have been easy to get lost in the crowd, so they stayed close on purpose.

 

The song changed. At first, it sounded like just another generic dance remix until the melody kicked in, and Erin grinned, opening her eyes, letting out a laugh.

 

"I  _ love _ this song!" she exclaimed, Holtz only just barely able to hear her over the noise.  Holtz smiled, watching her through the haze of flashing lights, everybody else just a blur of white around them.

 

They danced, and Erin mouthed the words to first verse of the song, and Holtz watched, not knowing the lyrics and unable to join in until the chorus.

 

"I wanna dance with somebody!" they both shouted along. "I wanna feel the  _ heat  _ with somebody! I wanna dance with somebody! With somebody who loves me!"

 

She wasn't sure who grabbed the other first, but by the time the chorus came around again, Holtz had her hands firmly on Erin's hips, while Erin gripped at Holtz's arms, and their bodies were pressed together as they danced.

 

They only got closer as the song continued, and they kept laughing, kept singing along, and all of the edges blurred together and it didn’t really matter that they were clinging onto each other, practically supporting the other up, occasionally stumbling and bumping into the people near them.

 

They were both sweating. Holtz could feel the dampness of Erin's dress as her hand moved to her lower back, and she was sure that her hair was wet as Erin ran her fingers through it. She could smell the sweat on her skin as her face pressed against her neck, and everything around them was spinning -- or maybe  _ they  _ were spinning -- and they were so close, and Erin's mouth was right against her ear, and she was still singing along to the song, but so much softer now, right into Holtz's ear, singing it just to her.

 

"I wanna dance with somebody. With somebody who loves me."

 

" _ I do _ ," she mumbled against her skin.

 

As the song ended, the beat continuing seamlessly into another song -- one that Holtz didn't recognize -- Erin pulled away, disentangling herself from Holtz, but still staying close to her.

 

“I think I need some air,” she shouted over the music. “Maybe another drink.”

 

“Yeah,” Holtz agreed, nodding. “Yeah, me too.”

 

*

 

As it turns out, Patty’s proton pack is even worse off than Abby’s, despite no physical damage on the outside. Holtz spends most of Monday fixing Abby’s and she's only just finished, only just moved on to figuring out what to do with Patty’s when Erin appears in front of her work table. She barely even notices her. She sees her. Her brain registers the fact that there is somebody standing there, but it takes almost a whole minute before she realizes that it's Erin and that she should look up at her.

 

“Hey,” Erin smiles warmly. “It's already almost seven.”

 

Holtz doesn't say anything, just glances towards a window, sees the darkened sky outside and blinks a few times because when did that happen? Last time she checked, it was only around noon.

 

“Oh,” she says, looking back down at the pack in front of her. “Okay. I can, um….”

 

She trails off. She's still staring at the pack, her brain whirring through different plans of how to best repair it. 

 

“You want to stay, don't you?” Erin asks her.

 

“Um…” she mumbles, not even looking up at her.

 

“Stay,” Erin says. “It's fine. We can go one evening without going home together.”

 

“Are you sure?” Holtz asks, finally lifting her eyes to look at her.

 

“Yeah,” she nods.

 

“Okay. I was gonna make dinner but--”

 

“There's leftovers still from when we ordered Thai the other night.”

 

“Oh, right. Okay.”

 

“You'll eat something, too, right?”

 

“Um.”

 

“Holtz.”

 

“If I remember.”

 

“Holtz, you have to eat!” Erin says, and then pulls out her phone. “In fact, I'm ordering food for you right now. It's going to be delivered here and you're going to eat it. Okay?”

 

“ _ Fine.” _

 

“And try not to stay all night? Try to get _some_ sleep, would you?”

 

“ _ Okay,”  _ Holtz sighs.

 

“Okay,” Erin says with a satisfied smile. “Don't blow yourself up.”

 

“I'll try my best.”

 

Erin leaves and Holtz continues to work, stopping only when the food that Erin ordered arrives, eating it and feeling a sort of warmth spread over her when she notices that Erin remembered her usual order.

 

It's late when she finally leaves. The sidewalks outside are empty and the wait for the train to arrive in the station takes longer than the train ride itself. 

 

She expects the apartment to be completely dark, but when she steps inside as silently as possible, she sees the soft glow from the small table lamp in the living room that has been left on. 

 

She doesn't even bother fully undressing. She just pulls off her shoes and pants right there in the living room, turns off the light, and blindly makes her way into the bedroom.

 

She briefly wonders what it means that she's now become so used to Erin’s apartment that she so easily makes her way from the living room and into her side of the bed in total darkness without a problem at all, but she doesn't think about it for very long because almost as soon as her head hits her pillow, she falls asleep.

 

And it seems like almost as soon as she falls asleep, the alarm to wake up is going off. It goes off a few more times with periods of snoozing in between before she feels Erin moving beside her.

 

"Holtz."

 

She groans in response, not even opening her eyes.

 

"How late did you get home?"

 

She groans again.

 

"What's the absolute minimum amount of time you need to get ready?" Erin asks her. Holtz shifts, lifts both of her hands up, still keeping her eyes closed. "Ten minutes?"

 

She nods.

 

"Okay. Go back to sleep. I'll wake you up ten minutes before we have to go."

 

She falls back to sleep easily. So easily that it feels like no time passes at all until Erin has a hand on her shoulder, nudging her gently.

 

“Alright. Come on, sleepyhead. You’ve gotta get up now.”

 

She cracks open an eyelid and Erin is standing beside her, leaning over her, and she’s fully dressed and ready for the day, close enough that Holtz can smell the freshly-applied coconut-scented lotion on her skin, and she smiles. She’s sleepy and a little disoriented, but she’s looking up at Erin and it’s the first thing she’s seeing all day and she thinks that it’s probably the best possible way to wake up.

 

“Don’t think I can convince you to ditch work with me again, do ya?” she mumbles.

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“Didn’t think so. Worth a try.”

 

She gets out of bed, gets ready quickly (she didn’t take her hair down or her makeup off from the night before, and both her hair and her makeup are a little messy from sleep, but she doesn’t bother fixing either one) and she makes Erin buy her the largest and strongest caffeinated beverage at the coffee shop on their way into work.

 

When they get to the firehouse, Holtz doesn’t immediately go upstairs to get back to work. Instead, she sits with Erin, a chair pulled up to the side of her desk, resting her feet on top of it as they drink their coffee and split the two muffins that neither one of them could choose between at the coffee shop. Holtz looks over some of Erin’s recent notes while Erin flips through the extensive paperwork from the previous day’s bust.

 

“Have I told you lately that you’re brilliant?” Holtz asks absentmindedly as she turns a page of Erin's notes. Erin doesn't say anything in response, but Holtz glances up, sees her smiling down at the paperwork in front of her.

 

She finally goes upstairs later, starts where she left off on fixing Patty’s proton pack. 

 

It's another long day, and when Erin comes up in the evening, the same thing happens as the night before. Erin goes home without her and Holtz stays to continue working.

 

It’s late when she finally finishes, but it’s still much earlier than the night before. She puts her headphones on for the journey home, dances through the empty sidewalks, gets to the apartment and unlocks the door, opens it as slowly and as silently as she possibly can. It's dark except for the lamp in the living room again, and she toes off her shoes by the front door, taking quiet steps towards the bedroom, careful not to wake Erin.

 

The bedroom door is already open and enough light from the living room spills in, and Holtz spots the t-shirt that she sleeps in draped over the dresser. She turns off the music playing from her phone and pulls her headphones from her ears as she crosses the threshold into the bedroom.

 

She expects to hear silence. But that isn’t what she hears. She hears a buzzing noise. Steady and persistent. And then a sharp inhale, followed by a low exhale, and then again, and just as the realization begins to dawn on Holtz, a soft moan cuts through the noise, and Holtz feels her mouth go dry and she freezes completely. Her heart is pounding so hard that she can hear it in her head, and her stomach is flipping all around, and she can’t move.

 

She knows that she  _ shouldn’t  _ look at her. She shouldn’t do it. But her own eyes betray her.

 

She’s covered, the blankets draped over her bent and spread knees. Her eyes are closed, head tilted back against the pillow, lips parted as she breathes heavily. One hand is curled up into a fist near her face while the other disappears beneath the blankets.  


 

Holtz feels as if she’s been standing there for several minutes when, in reality, it’s only been a few seconds. Her hands are shaking -- her  _ whole body  _ is shaking -- and she doesn’t know  _ what to do _ . She thinks that maybe she should go back into the living room,  _ pretend  _ to come home again, only  _ louder.  _ She thinks that it’s the only thing she  _ can  _ do. She begins to take a step back, out of the bedroom, only, her elbow knocks against the bedroom door with a soft  _ thud _ , pushes the door and it  _ creaks,  _ and that’s all it takes. 

 

Erin’s eyes snap open, landing right on Holtz. She gasps, eyes widening, and the buzzing stops, and Erin scrambles, and Holtz keeps stepping back, nearly tripping over her own feet, stammering out some sort of apology.

 

“Oh my god,” Erin chokes out.

 

“I’m-- sorry, so sorry, I didn’t-- oh, god, I’m--”

 

Once she’s completely out of the bedroom, she pulls the door shut because she  _ doesn’t know what else to do.  _ She shuts the bedroom door and she’s in the living room and she doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to  _ handle this situation.  _ She can feel all of the blood rushing through her veins even though the outside of her body feels strangely numb.

 

She sits down on the couch. She stares at the wall in front of her.

 

The image of Erin with her head pressed into the pillow burns bright and vivid behind her eyelids. The sound of her moan replays itself in her mind. There’s a jolt in her lower body that she tries to ignore.

 

She doesn’t know how long she sits there. But eventually, the bedroom door creaks open again, and Holtz looks up.

 

Erin has her hands completely covering her face. They’re just pressed flat over her face and she turns, still in the doorway, presses her face and her hands up against the side of the door frame.

 

“‘Msosorry,” she mumbles out, her voice muffled by her hands. “Thoughtyouweregonnabehomelater. Likelastnight.”

 

Somehow, Holtz manages to understand her.

 

“I got done earlier,” she says softly, even though it’s a pretty useless bit of information now.

 

“Didn’thearyoucomein.”

 

“I was quiet.”

 

“OhmygodI’msoembarrassed.”

 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Holtz says. “I mean, it’s… you know… everyone does it.”

 

Erin only groans. 

 

“And, I mean… it’s not like we get much alone time these days. And neither one of us is having any sex, so… I get it.”

 

“Oh my god,  _ stop,”  _ Erin murmurs, moving her hands to just the sides of her face, still leaning her forehead on the door frame and not looking at Holtz at all.

 

“I’m just trying to make you feel better,” she says. “You can be embarrassed, but you don’t  _ need  _ to be.”

 

Erin groans again. There's several beats of silence before Holtz speaks again.  


 

“Did you uh… Did you at least get to...?" Holtz begins, trailing off. Erin turns her head, finally looking over at Holtz.

 

"What?"

 

"You know...," she shrugs. "Did you get to...  _ finish? _ "

 

_ "What?!" _

 

"What? It's a perfectly reasonable question! I already feel bad about interrupting, but I'll feel even worse if you didn't even get to come!"

 

" _ Holtzmann! _ " Erin shouts, her hands covering her face again. "Oh my god! I'm not  _ telling you that." _

 

"I'm not asking for  _ details _ . I'm not really asking you to tell me anything, I just...will feel bad...if you...didn't."

 

There's a long stretch of silence before Erin lets out a low breath.

 

"......No," she mumbles so softly that Holtz almost doesn't even hear her.

 

"Oh," Holtz frowns. "Shit. I'm sorry."

 

"It's... Oh my god, can we please stop talking about this? Forever?"

 

"Ummm. You know...I think that I should...take a shower," she says. Erin looks over at her, eyebrows furrowed.

 

"What?"

 

"Yeah," she nods. "I'm gonna take a shower."

 

"You never shower at night," Erin points out.

 

"Well, tonight, I feel like it. I'll probably be like, what...thirty minutes? Is that enough time?"

 

"Holtz!"

 

" _ Forty _ ? Am I going in the right direction? More than thirty? Or less than thirty?"

 

_ "Holtz! _ "

 

"Look, I'm gonna shower and while I'm showering, I'm just going to assume that you'll be...y'know... so you might as well, right?"

 

"Oh my god. I'm not talking to you."

 

"Have fun!" she sings out as she hurries towards the bathroom.

 

She takes her time in the shower. She doesn't know what Erin is doing, but her imagination runs wild. And she can't stop herself from picturing the scene that she walked in on, replaying those few seconds over and over again. She closes her eyes, rests her forehead against the tile of the shower wall, can't help but allow her hand to move to between her legs.

 

She hears Erin's soft moan in her mind, imagines what other noises she might make. Imagines alternative realities in which Erin's eyes opened to find Holtz standing there and simply lifted the blankets, welcoming her into bed with her. Her mind flashes with images and fantasies and she comes with her hand pressed to her mouth and hot water running down her back.

 

The apartment is silent when she emerges from the bathroom after her shower. Erin is in bed, curled up on her side, beneath the blankets. Holtz climbs in beside her.

 

“Holtz?” Erin speaks softly.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can we please pretend that this never happened?” she asks.

 

“Yeah,” Holtz agrees. “We can.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“No problem.”

  
  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I also hate me for using that gif.  
> Um. HI! Oh my gosh, it's been a really really long time and I'm so sorry, but! My work schedule is finally back to normal and hopefully updates will be more regular again!

Erin can’t look Holtz in the eye. It’s been two days, and she still can’t look Holtz in the eye. And Holtz has kept her word, hasn’t mentioned what happened, has gone on just as she always has, just like nothing happened at all. But every time Erin looks at her, she remembers it. She thinks about it. And it’s quite possibly the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to her in her entire adult life. Worse than being fired from Columbia. Worse than appearing on the front page of a newspaper after punching a man in the face. Worse than appearing on the front page of a newspaper after getting drunkenly married.

 

It’s the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to her in her entire adult life.

 

She doesn’t want it to be. She wants to be able to move on and forget about it like it’s no big deal. But  _ Holtz  _ walked in on her  _ masturbating.  _ And it isn’t like she’d ever deny the fact that it’s something that she  _ does,  _ but to be walked in on, for it to be  _ Holtz  _ that walked in on her -- and it’s her own fault. She knows that she shouldn’t have  _ assumed  _ that Holtz would be home as late as she had been the night before. 

 

So, she can’t look her in the eye. She does her best to pretend that everything is okay, to pretend like she’s not thinking about it  _ every goddamn second _ , but she can’t look her in the eye.

 

And two days pass by just like normal, even though Erin can’t look Holtz in the eye. They pass by and they don’t mention it, they pretend it didn’t happen, but Erin can’t stop thinking about it. 

 

But everything is so normal. Erin can’t look Holtz in the eye, but Holtz is doing a spectacular job of going about as if nothing happened. Erin follows her lead. They go to work together, they work, they come home from work together, and it’s normal and routine (and surprisingly comfortable), and by the end of the week, Erin is beginning to think that maybe they really can just push the whole incident aside, pretend it didn’t happen, never, ever, ever bring it up again. After all, it’s exactly what they’ve done with the whole near-kiss thing after the date that they were forced to go on. They’ve ignored that pretty well, too. So she thinks that they can just add  _ this  _ on to the pile of things to be ignored forever.

 

It’s Friday and it’s the third day since it happened and things are normal. As normal as they can be. Erin is upstairs in the firehouse and Holtz is in her lab, but she isn’t working on any equipment. Instead, she’s staring down at the table, a pen in her hand, scribbling furiously away on something that looks a lot like a napkin. Her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth, her glasses dangle from one ear, and she’s so deep in concentration, that she hasn’t even noticed that Erin is up there. And Erin has been up there for at least twenty minutes now. 

 

Erin came up there to find a specific book that she knows Holtz had at one point, and she thinks that it would probably be easier if she just asked Holtz where she put it, but she can’t bring herself to break her out of whatever zone it is that she is in. And for the past five minutes or so, Erin has given up her search, and she finds herself watching Holtz.

 

Blonde curls fall from atop her head, covering most of her face from Erin’s view, but after a few seconds, Holtz absentmindedly lifts a hand, pushing her hair back up. She’s done this several times already. The hair keeps falling back down. Holtz keeps pushing it back up. 

 

She pauses, shifts in her chair, chews on her bottom lip, and then write some more. Pauses again. And then looks up.

 

And Erin is just  _ standing there,  _ but a grin immediately spreads over Holtz’s face.

 

“Hi,” she greets happily.

 

“Hi,” Erin says back. And then she stands there. Doesn’t say anything. And Holtz is smiling at her, also not saying anything. She seems to be waiting for Erin to speak, completely unbothered by the silence, and Erin blinks a few times, trying to remember why she’s even there in the first place.

 

“What are you working on?” she asks instead. Holtz’s grin grows even wider. 

 

“Oh, well, you remember when you got ecto-projected on  _ again  _ and your gun got all slimed up and started, um, not working?”

 

“Yeah,” she nods, stepping closer to her. “I have a pretty clear memory of that.”

 

“I think I may have figured out a sort of slime-repellent that will work faultlessly on weapons. I’m just not sure how safe it is in terms of like, touching it and stuff,” she says, looking down at her notes again -- and Erin is close enough now to see for sure that they  _ are  _ written on a napkin.

 

“Wow, actually taking safety into consideration?” she laughs softly.

 

“Well, it’d be for you, so yeah, of course,” Holtz replies as if it’s obvious. “You’re the one who needs it most. And I’d rather not see the skin melt off your hands. It would be  _ pretty  _ disgusting.”

 

“Okay. Yeah. I’d prefer to keep my skin.”

 

“I’d prefer you to keep your skin, too,” she smiles. “It’s very nice skin.”

 

Erin returns the smile and leans up against Holtz’s table, glancing down at her napkin of notes, also noticing several small doodles, and the way that Holtz’s handwriting changes in various spots, small and neat in some areas, an illegible scrawl in others, and a few lopsided lines of cursive. Some words are crossed out, others underlined or circled. She’s not even reading anything on the napkin. She’s just looking at it.

 

“So, what brings you up to my lair?” Holtz asks, and she spins around on her stool, readjusting her glasses so that they sit properly over her eyes, staring out at Erin through yellow lenses.

 

“Oh. Um,” Erin mumbles, trying to remember. Then she shakes her head. “This isn’t your  _ lair.  _ This is  _ shared space.” _

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever, I know that’s what we all  _ say.”  _

 

“Okay, whatever. Um. I was looking for a book--”

 

“Is it that one?” Holtz asks, pointing, and Erin turns, eyes following Holtz’s index finger, and she shakes her head.

 

“No. It’s--”

 

“That one?” she points in a different direction. Erin turns again and shakes her head again.

 

“No. I can--”

 

“ _ That _ one?!”

 

“I can just  _ tell you  _ the title-- oh. Yeah. It is that one,” she says, seeing the new place that Holtz is pointing. 

 

“ _ Knew it.” _

 

Erin laughs, shakes her head, and walks towards the shelf that Holtz had pointed to, grabbing the book from it. She turns, looking at Holtz again.

 

“Well… that’s all I came up for.”

 

Holtz shouts out a goodbye and Erin begins to descend the stairs, book in her arms. As she gets closer to the first floor, she can hear the sound of Abby and Patty speaking to each other in slightly hushed voices, and Erin doesn’t think much of it, but then she hears her name clearly and she pauses. She doesn't know what was just said about her. She was really only able to hear her name. But she tunes completely in now.  


 

“I don’t know,” Abby is saying softly, and Erin strains to hear her. “But it’s weird, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, it is,” Patty agrees. “Wait, how did  _ you  _ find it again?”

 

“Every so often, I go through deleted emails just to make sure that Kevin didn’t delete anything important. I saw that it was from the mayor’s assistant, so I opened it.”

 

“But it was good, wasn’t it? So why would one of them have deleted it?”

 

“It was  _ very  _ good,” Abby says. “Which just makes it all even weirder. Remember how they didn’t even want to talk about their date when we asked about it the Monday right after? They both just...avoided it and changed the subject.”

 

“You’re right, Patty comments. “ _ Unless…  _ You don’t think… maybe it went  _ really well.  _ And…?”

 

“No,” Abby says. “No, I don’t think so. That was  _ weeks  _ ago now. I don’t think that they would be able to hide it for that long. I also don’t think that they would be able to hide it very well at all.”

 

“Then why else would one of them have deleted the email about it and then pretend like they never knew an email came at all?”

 

“I don’t know,” Abby admits. “I don’t know a lot of things. Maybe it  _ wasn’t  _ one of them. Maybe Kevin deleted it.”

 

Patty lets out a heavy sigh.

 

“How long has it been now?”

 

“Almost a month,” Abby tells her. “Including the week in Vegas, they have spent every night together for over a month now.”

 

“ _ Jesus.  _ And they  _ still  _ haven’t gotten anywhere?  _ What  _ is  _ taking  _ them so long?!”

 

“Maybe...maybe we’re wrong,” Abby suggests. “Maybe we’ve been wrong this whole time and they  _ don’t  _ have feelings for each other.”

 

“Are you serious?” Patty asks. “ _ Abby.  _ Come on. Even if I wasn’t sure  _ before  _ they got married, the fact that they  _ got married  _ would have  _ made  _ me sure.”

 

“I know, I know. You’re right,” Abby sighs.

 

There’s a pause. Erin stands still on the stairwell, out of their sight, and she can feel her heart beating in her throat. Her hands grip tightly onto the book she holds, and she is frozen, listening to the conversation below her unfolding. Patty speaks again.

 

“Do you think they had sex? In Vegas, I mean?” she asks. Erin’s heart pounds even harder.

 

“You know...I don’t know.”

 

“I think they did,” Patty says.

 

“Erin seemed  _ really  _ sure that they didn’t, though.”

 

“Yeah, but if neither one of them can  _ really  _ remember, but Holtzy was having some sort of feeling that they  _ did?  _ I think they did.”

 

“I think they didn’t. They were  _ wasted.  _ I would be surprised if they were even able to find their  _ own  _ vaginas.”

 

“I think they did,” Patty says yet again, and Erin can’t bear to hear any more of it. She takes a deep breath and she walks forward, letting her feet fall loudly on the steps, and Patty and Abby both fall silent. 

 

Erin doesn’t look at them as she sits down at her desk, staring at the book in front of her, trying to remember what it was that she had even been doing before she went upstairs.

 

She wants to say something. Something in response to what she just overheard. But she doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t have anything to say. So she says nothing. Just pretends that she heard nothing. Pretends that everything is fine. Pretends that everything is perfectly normal, even though it’s  _ not.  _ But she’s been doing a lot of that lately. And she’s getting very good at it.

 

*

 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

 

Erin and Holtz were by the bar, inside the nightclub, dressed in white and surrounded by white. They’d been standing there for a while, taking a bit of a break from all of the dancing. They both held drinks in their hands and so the male voice beside them went completely unnoticed, until there was a cough and a “Hello?”

 

And Holtz turned, looking at the man standing beside her. She looked at him, raising her eyebrows in a surprised sort of way, but said nothing.

 

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked again.

 

Holtz kept looking at him, her expression turning from surprised to completely confused.

 

“Are you talking to me?” she asked.

 

“Yeah,” he nodded, laughing, and Holtz tilted her head to one side, clearly not understanding at all, and Erin simply watched.

 

“What?”

 

“A drink,” the man repeated. “Can I buy you one?”

 

Holtz blinked a few times, not saying anything, and then she glanced down at herself, and then back up. And she laughed. She laughed loudly, her entire face scrunching up, the hand not already holding a cup slapping at the surface of the bar. It was the man’s turn to look confused.

 

“Is she okay?” he asked, directing his question to Erin. 

 

“Do I-- do I-- oh my god, oh my god,” Holtz wheezed out. “Do I look like a straight girl?!”

 

“What?” the man asked.

 

“Are you hitting on me?!”

 

“Uh...trying to, yeah,” he said.

 

“And you think I might be into that?!”

 

He didn’t answer. He only frowned.

 

“This has never happened to me before!” she laughed, and then looked over at Erin. “Erin! He thinks I’m straight!”

 

“You do look kind of straight right now,” she giggled.

 

“I’m sorry, wait,” the man shook his head. “You’re…?”

 

“A  _ massive  _ lesbian,” she confirmed with a grin. “So while I am very flattered, I gotta tell you, you are wasting your time.”

 

“Oh,” he said with another frown, then he turned to look at Erin. “What about you?”

 

“What about me?” she asked.

 

“You a lez, too?”

 

“Um,” she began, hesitating, already put-off by the man’s choice of words and his tone. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

 

He looked back and forth between the two of them, his eyes settling on Holtz once more.

 

“You don’t  _ look  _ like a dyke,” he said. Holtz simply lifted her brows in surprise. Erin, however, let her mouth fall open in disgusted shock.

 

“I assure you that I am,” Holtz responded coolly. The man looked at Erin again, and then back to Holtz.

 

“Maybe if you prove it, I’ll believe you,” he drawled with a lazy smile.

 

“I’m sorry,” Holtz laughed. “ _ What?” _

 

“If you make out with your girlfriend here, I might actually believe that you’re a dyke.”

 

“You are  _ very gross  _ and I want you to go away now,” Erin shouted over the music. 

 

“I agree,” Holtz nodded. “Please leave us alone. We just want to have a nice time.”

 

“Hey,” he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m trying to have a nice time, too. You’re both hot, okay? Take a compliment.”

 

“Y’know, buddy, I hate to break it to ya, but sexual harassment  _ isn’t  _ a compliment,” Holtz told him.

 

“Sexual harassment,” he scoffed. 

 

“Listen, dude, neither of us are interested in you and we’re not gonna make out with each other for your enjoyment, so if you could just scoot along now, that’d be great.”

 

“Yeah!” Erin shouted in agreement.

 

The man rolled his eyes and seemed as if he was ready to say something, but Holtz turned away from him, turning her attention to Erin, who was more than happy to look at her rather than the man.

 

“If I believed in a god, I swear, I’d thank her every day for making me gay,” Holtz said with a laugh. “I don’t know how straight girls do it, honestly.”

 

“I don't know, either,” Erin laughed. 

 

“ _ You’re  _ straight,” Holtz commented. “How do you do it?”

 

“Who said that I'm--” Erin began, but before she could finish, the man beside them brushed passed them brusquely, clearly unhappy by the double rejection, knocking into Holtz, jostling her and causing her to trip forward in the process of his fairly overdramatic exit. Holtz stumbled, knocked off-balance, the drink in her hand tipping forward, contents splashing over the edge, right onto the front of Erin’s white dress. She didn't even notice as she scrambled to help Holtz find her footing again, grabbing her by the shoulders, and Erin quickly looked up towards the man who had turned, saw what he had done, shook his head, and then continued on his way.

 

“Hey!” Erin shouted once she was sure that Holtz was steady on her feet, letting go of her and moving forward. “ _ Hey!” _

 

She was loud. And angry. And even over the loud music, the man seemed to hear her and he turned back, looking rather bored. 

 

“Erin,” Holtz mumbled softly beside her, a hand resting on her elbow. 

 

“Don't act like you don't know what you just did!” Erin yelled. “Apologize!”

 

“I don't know what you're talking about,” the man replied, stepping closer to them once more.

 

“Yes, you do! You  _ pushed  _ her!”

 

“Erin, come on, it's fine,” Holtz urged, now gripping onto her elbow.

 

“She's drunk. She tripped,” the man shrugged.

 

“ _ No,”  _ she shook her head. “That's not what happened and you know it.”

 

People were turning to look at them. Holtz squirmed, holding tightly onto Erin, but Erin just moved forward, staring straight into the man’s face, glaring at him. And he looked completely unbothered and it angered Erin even more.

 

“Say you're sorry,” she demanded.

 

He rolled his eyes. And then he looked at Holtz.

 

“Can you control your girlfriend? She's getting a little... _ emotional.” _

 

Holtz released Erin’s elbow, giving her the freedom to move forward even more.

 

“Even if she  _ was _ my girlfriend, I would never try to  _ control _ her,” she spat out.

 

“What is wrong with you?!” Erin yelled, stepping closer still until she was face-to-face with the man. He was taller than her, but she stared up at him, confident and defiant. “You think it’s okay to treat women like pieces of meat that are just here for your enjoyment?! And the second you realize they’re not interested, you just  _ push them out of the way?!” _

 

“You need to calm down,” he laughed, rolling his eyes. 

 

“Erin, let’s just go," Holtz mumbled to her, and Erin hadn’t even noticed that she had moved closer to her, but she was just slightly behind her. “This guy’s a dick, he’s not gonna apologize.”

 

“But I  _ want him to,”  _ Erin insisted, still staring up at him. “I want him to apologize.”

 

“Sorry,” the man said quickly, a laugh lingering in his words, and he clearly didn’t mean it at all. “Happy now?”

 

“No,” Erin shook her head.

 

“I really don’t feel like dealing with some crazy bitch right now, so--”

 

“ _ What  _ did you just say?” Holtz asked loudly, taking a few more steps forward so that she was directly beside Erin. 

 

“You heard me.”

 

“Yeah. I did. And even though I realize that there is  _ no point  _ in arguing with you because you are just a fucking  _ asshole,  _ I am also drunk enough that now I want you to apologize to  _ her  _ for saying  _ that,”  _ she shouted, pointing wildly at him. 

 

“You know what?” he laughed, shaking his head. “I  _ am  _ sorry. Sorry that I thought you were worth making a move on at all. Now that I’m looking at you, you’re not even that hot.”

 

“Hey!” Erin yelled. “She is  _ so  _ hot!”

 

“I’d never want somebody like  _ you  _ to find me hot, anyways,” she replied calmly. “You’re gross and you’re an asshole.”

 

“And you’re a crazy bitch, too,” he said, rolling his eyes.

 

And then, before anyone could really process what was happening, Erin’s fist was colliding with the side of the man’s face.

 

And then again.

 

The man was shouting, people surrounding them were taking several steps back, Holtz’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open, and Erin punched him yet again. His nose was bleeding and he staggered back, yelling insults and obscenities, hands flying to his face, and Erin was pulling her hand back once more, but before she could do anything, she felt herself being grabbed by bouncers, saw Holtz being grabbed, too.

 

And then they were back outside.

 

*

 

On Monday, there’s an email from Jennifer Lynch. Abby calls both Erin and Holtz over to the computer to look at it. 

 

_ Congratulations on making it through your first month as a married couple. As tomorrow is your one-month anniversary, you should be seen in public doing something to celebrate.  _

 

“That’s it?” Erin asks, reading and re-reading the two measly sentences over again. “She didn’t tell us  _ what  _ to do, though.” 

 

“I guess you have to figure it out yourselves this time,” Abby says. 

 

“How are we supposed to do  _ that?”  _ Holtz mumbles. 

 

“And who celebrates a  _ one-month  _ anniversary anyways?” Erin continues. 

 

“I would,” Holtz comments. “If I was married.”

 

“You  _ are  _ married,” Abby reminds her. 

 

“Right,” she nods.

 

“I wouldn’t,” Erin frowns.

 

“Well, you have to,” Abby says, and then turns to Holtz. “How would you celebrate if you were married for real? Just do that.”

 

“Well, uh...I think that it’d be more of a... _ private  _ celebration, if you know what I mean,” she grins, adding a wink onto the end. Erin feels herself roll her eyes, almost as if out of reflex. 

 

“Okay,  _ don’t  _ do that.”

 

“I’ll figure something out,” Holtz says, turning from Abby to smile over at Erin. “I’ll take care of it.”

 

“What does that mean?” Erin asks.

 

“You’ll see!”

 

“Okay…,” she frowns. “But what are you going to do?”

 

“It’s a  _ surprise.” _

 

“I don’t like surprises.”

 

“Who  _ doesn’t like surprises?!”  _ Holtz scoffs, shaking her head as she begins to turn away and walks, heading towards the stairs. “You just have to trust me, Erin.”

 

“Okay, but I don’t!” she calls out as Holtz quickly bounds up the stairs.

 

“Too bad!” she yells out. And then she’s gone and Erin stands there with Abby. She glances at her, sees the way that she’s smiling.

 

“What?” she asks.

 

“Nothing,” Abby replies, shaking her head, and then she turns away, too, leaving Erin alone by the computer. She looks at the computer. Stares at it for a few seconds. And then she sighs, heading back to her own desk.

 

Holtz leaves early. And not even just by  _ her  _ standards. But  _ actually  _ early. 

 

“I have business to attend to,” she tells Erin. “I’ll see you at home.”

 

“You-- what?  _ Business?  _ Holtz, what are-- where are you-- what are you planning?!”

 

“Can’t tell you!” she says, and then she leaves without another word. Erin frowns. She doesn’t like not knowing things. She doesn’t like not knowing what Holtz is planning for the two of them. She doesn’t like being  _ surprised.  _

 

She keeps working. 

 

Back before she used to leave the firehouse with Holtz every night, she would occasionally stay late. She would get wrapped up in her work and when she didn't have any reason to leave at a certain time, she wouldn't. Often times, it would result in her and Holtz being the last ones to leave, but Erin still almost always left before Holtz. So when she gets wrapped up in her work and Patty leaves, and then Kevin leaves, and then Abby leaves, Erin is surprised to find herself completely alone. She looks at the time. It's only a little past seven in the evening and she's been here much later than that before, but she figures that it's probably time to head home.

 

She stands from her desk, stretching her limbs, and putting things back into the specific order that she likes. Just as she's about to head towards the front door, her eyes land on the computer atop Kevin’s desk.

 

She glances around her. She knows that she's alone because she watched everybody leave, and yet, she still feels it necessary to make sure.

 

She hesitates. The conversation that she overheard between Abby and Patty replays itself in her mind for the hundredth time. She shakes her head, tells herself to just  _ ignore it,  _ to just let it go. But as she walks towards the door, she can't stop herself. She turns halfway there and heads to Kevin's desk instead.

 

The computer is still on. She doesn't even bother sitting down. She just leans over, guiding the mouse towards the internet browser, towards the Ghostbusters business email account, towards the deleted emails. 

 

She scrolls through them, knowing the exact date that she's looking for, and finding it easily.

 

An email from Jennifer Lynch sent the day after Erin’s date with Holtz. 

 

She clicks it. Clicks the article link inside. Finally sits down in the chair as she reads it.

 

She knows that it was Holtz that deleted the email. Holtz was at the firehouse the Saturday after the date. She had come to avoid Erin after Erin had messed up, tried to kiss her, and made her uncomfortable. She knows that it was Holtz that deleted it. But she doesn't know  _ why.  _ Doesn't know what it  _ means. _

 

She also knows that if had been her who had found the email first, she probably would have deleted it before anybody else saw it, too.

 

And she isn't sure what  _ that  _ means, either.

 

She goes home. 

 

When she gets to her apartment, the door is already unlocked, and she steps inside to the sound of music and the sight of Holtz in the kitchen. Holtz’s back is turned to her and Erin watches as she moves to the music, listens as she sings along to it. The song is slow and melodic, not something that she usually finds Holtz listening to. But then the song ends, changes to one much more upbeat. Erin can tell that it must be from a musical, but she doesn't recognize it. 

 

She sets her bag down, steps out of her shoes, and moves towards the kitchen. Holtz is standing over a cutting board, knife in hand, a red pepper in front of her, her upper body bopping from side to side along with the music as she sings along with it. Erin isn’t really listening to the lyrics that Holtz sings until Holtz turns her head, noticing Erin, and she doesn’t stop singing. Instead, her face breaks out into a grin and she continues, making direct eye contact with her.

 

“ _ Oh,  _ I’m gonna do this right! Show you I’m not movin’; wherever you go I won’t be far to follow,” she sings, her eyes widening dramatically with the words, her body still moving. “Ohh-oh, I’m gonna love you  _ so--” _

 

“Can you  _ not  _ point at me with a knife?!” Erin laughs when Holtz holds out the large knife in Erin’s direction. Holtz still doesn’t break eye contact. She simply drops the knife onto the cutting board and seamlessly picks up the wooden spoon beside her on the counter, pointing at Erin with that instead.

 

“You’ll learn what I already know:  _ I love you  _ means you’re never, ever, ever getting rid of me!”

 

She pulls the spoon back, singing into it like a microphone.

 

“You can  _ try _ ! Oh, but _ I, I love you  _ means you’re never, ever, ever getting rid of me.”

 

She slams the spoon down onto the counter and slowly shimmies her way closer to Erin. And Erin laughs, because she’s  _ ridiculous,  _ all flailing limbs and gyrating hips, and she can’t bring herself to look away, let alone move away.

 

“I grew up an only child in the suburbs of the city, spent my days alone, my only friend was a stray kitty called Sardine,” Holtz sings, moving closer to still to Erin. “Yeah, I thought it was hilarious to call a cat a kind of fish.”

 

When she reaches Erin, she immediately grabs for her hands, lacing their fingers together and pulling them up, forcing her to move from side to side with her.

 

“ _ Noo,”  _ she whines, but doesn’t bother actually trying to pull her hands from Holtz’s grasp.

 

“She played hard to get, hissing while she scratched me. What she was tryin’ to say was ‘Holtzy, come and catch me.’ I learned quickly that perseverance stood between a cat and her new best friend, me!” she drops Erin’s hands to throw her own into the air, emphasizing the last word, but she quickly grabs them again.

 

“ _ Oh,  _ I’m gonna do this right! Show you I’m not movin’. Wherever you go I won’t be far to follow.  _ Ohh-oh,  _ I’m gonna love you  _ so,  _ you’ll learn what I already know:  _ I love you  _ means you’re never, ever, ever getting rid of me.”

 

She spins Erin, and Erin willingly spins. She pulls Erin closer, and Erin lets herself be pulled closer. 

 

“You can  _ try,  _ oh, but  _ I, I love you  _ means you’re never, ever, ever getting rid of me!”

 

The song ends and Holtz drops Erin’s hands, taking a few steps back, away from her, but she continues to smile, and Erin laughs, shaking her head. Holtz reaches for her cell phone on the kitchen counter, taps it a few times, and then the music stops completely.

 

“You know, I had no idea that you liked musicals so much,” Erin comments, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the wall.

 

“Of  _ course  _ I like musicals, Erin. I’m not a  _ monster.”  _

 

“Oh, not liking musicals makes you a monster?”

 

“Yeah,” she nods, and then picks up a strip of red pepper from the cutting board. “Hey, you like red pepper, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Cool. Eat this,” she says, and then she’s shoving the piece of red pepper towards Erin’s face.

 

“ _ What?”  _

 

“I cut up more than I need, but I don’t want to waste them, so  _ eat it,”  _ she demands, pushing it against Erin’s closed lips. Erin turns her head away.

 

“I don’t-- I--,” she stammers. “Oh my god, okay,  _ fine.”  _

 

She  _ could  _ reach up and grab the pepper herself, and she’s aware of that, but instead, she simply opens her mouth and takes it between her teeth directly from Holtz’s hand. And Holtz looks far too pleased as she reaches for another slice of red pepper, bringing it to her own mouth and biting down with a crunch. 

 

Erin pulls her bit of pepper from her mouth, nibbling the end of it.

 

“So, what are we doing tomorrow?” she asks yet again. Holtz just smirks, turning away and back to the cutting board on the counter.

 

“I told you, it’s a surprise,” she answers. Erin lets out a small huff of disappointment, and Holtz looks over at her again, doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, just looks at her, tilting her head slightly to one side.

 

“You really hate not knowing, don’t you?”

 

“I mean, I wouldn’t say I  _ hate  _ it, that makes me sound very dramatic,” Erin shrugs. “But yes. Yes, I do.”

 

“I’ll tell you if you really want me to.”

 

“I do,” she says again. Holtz shrugs, glancing away.

 

“I was kind of making it seem like a bigger deal than it really is,” she says. “I figured we could just have a picnic in Central Park.”

 

“Oh,” Erin mumbles, somewhat surprised by the simplicity of it all. “That… That actually sounds really nice.”

 

“Yeah?” Holtz smiles.

 

“Yeah,” she nods.

 

“I figure that it’s public enough for us to be seen, but not  _ too  _ public that it would look like we were going out of our way to be seen.”

 

“Yeah. Smart.”

 

“So, you’re okay with that, then?”

 

“Yeah,” she smiles. 

 

“Good,” Holtz nods, and then holds another slice of red pepper out to her. Erin takes it.

 

The next day, Erin and Holtz go to work in the morning, but they leave in the afternoon to head towards the park.

 

“It’s pretty cool, right?” Holtz asks. “We get to ditch work for half a day to have a picnic and it’s totally acceptable!”

 

“We have to ditch work for half a day to have a picnic so that we can continue to have a job to work at,” Erin reminds her. She scrunches up her nose, making a face at her.

 

“I prefer thinking of it my way.”

 

“I still can’t believe you bought an  _ actual  _ picnic basket,” Erin says, glancing down at the basket that Holtz carries, red gingham lining and all.  “Where did you even  _ find  _ that?”

 

“I told you that I had business to attend to yesterday,” she grins over at her. “It really wasn’t that hard to find, though.”

 

When they reach the park, they walk until they reach Sheep’s Meadow and find a spot in the grassy field that is semi-secluded, but still out in the open enough for them to be seen. Erin stands and she watches as Holtz lays out a blanket for them to sit on -- more red gingham -- and then sets the picnic basket on top of it. Holtz sits down first, and then pats the spot beside her, and Erin climbs onto the blanket as well.

 

She sits close to Holtz. Closer than she normally would. If they’re going to be seen together celebrating their first month of marriage, it has to be convincing. 

 

“May I offer you a glass of non-alcoholic bubbly beverage?” Holtz asks, pulling a bottle of sparkling cider from the basket. “I’ve never been totally sure if alcohol is allowed in the park, so I figured that this was safer. Also, there are times when I’m pretty sure that I’m  _ still  _ hung over from Vegas, so….”

 

“Yeah,” Erin laughs. “It’s best to go with the non-alcoholic stuff.”

 

She serves their cider in a pair of plastic champagne flutes, handing one to Erin and then gently setting hers down atop the blanket, steadying it on the fluffy surface. 

 

“I also brought a selection of fruit. And crackers. And pretzels. And sandwiches,” she says as she removes each item from the basket. Erin looks at the arrangement in front of her. She smiles. 

 

“Holtz, this is really nice,” she says. Holtz just shrugs, looks away, but Erin can see that she smiles.

 

“It’s nothing,” she mumbles. “I mean, y’know, Abby said to just do what I would really-- and...I mean… well. It’s nothing.”

 

“Well… thank you,” she says. “For figuring it out.”

 

“Oh!” Holtz suddenly gasps, turning to face her again. “I got you something.”

 

“What?”

 

“I got you a present to celebrate the fact that we’ve managed to make it through our first month of marriage without seriously screwing anything up.”

 

“You did?”

 

“Sure did.”

 

“I actually,” she laughs, “Um. I got you something, too.”

 

“What!” she grins.

 

“Yeah,” she nods, and reaches for her purse, but Holtz shakes her head.

 

“No, I wanna go first!” she demands.

 

“Okay. Okay, fine.”

 

Holtz reaches into the picnic basket again, into a small pocket inside the lid, and she pulls out a small, grey box, hands it to Erin.

 

“I didn’t wrap it,” she says. 

 

The box is light and Erin lifts the lid. She feels her eyes widen, feels her mouth open just slightly, feels a lot of other things, too. Her lips curve up into a smile.

 

“It’s…,” Erin begins, but trails off completely.

 

Inside the box is a delicate gold chain with a small pendant of a pigeon hanging from it. 

 

She doesn’t even know what to say. 

 

“Holtz, I….”

 

“You like it?” she asks, sounding almost nervous.

 

“I love it,” she affirms, nodding, looking up at her. And then she frowns. “The thing I got for you is… Oh, god, I shouldn’t even give it to you. Compared to this, it’s, it’s not even--”

 

“Hey! I didn’t even expect anything at all, so whatever it is, I’ll love it,” she assures her. Erin still frowns, though, but then glances back at the necklace in the box in her hand. She lifts it from the box with her other hand, sets the box down, and unclasps the hook at the end of the chain, lifting it to her neck and securing it around it. She lets her fingers graze over the pendant, the smooth, cold metal that falls between her collar bones. 

 

“Okay,” she sighs, and then reaches for her purse again. She doesn’t even bother with any sort of special presentation. She simply reaches into her purse, pulls out the bag of Skittles that she’d bought on her way home the night before, and flings them in Holtz’s direction. “Here.”

 

But Holtz’s face lights up completely. She gasps, grabbing for the bag of Skittles, and looks up, wide-eyed at Erin.

 

“My  _ favourite!”  _ she exclaims, immediately ripping the bag open. Erin laughs, watching her, unable to tear her eyes away from her as she shoves a handful of multi-coloured candies into her mouth. She touches the pigeon around her neck again, just a fingertip over the chain, around the edges, and her heart thumps a little more rapidly, a little more forcefully.

 

“Erin. Erin. Erin,” Holtz says, grinning at her, and she flops backwards, falls down onto her back on the blanket beneath them, her arm landing across Erin’s thigh, and she’s still looking up at her, still grinning, all teeth and dimples, and she reaches into the Skittles bag again. 

 

“Yes?”

 

“Have I--,” she shoves more candy into her mouth, continues to speak anyways, her words garbled, “--mentioned lately how much I love you?”

 

She laughs. She laughs because Holtz says it so lightly, so friendly, and she doesn’t know how else to respond but with laughter. She laughs, but something shifts. Inside of her. She feels it shift.

 

And then it clicks.

 

And she blinks. And a blur of images and memories fill her mind. Late nights with Holtz at the firehouse, late nights where she was hesitant to leave. Sitting across from Holtz at a table in a fancy restaurant, unable to stop  _ looking at her.  _ Waking up, completely comfortable in Holtz’s arms. Nearly kissing Holtz.  _ Actually  _ kissing Holtz. The conversation between Patty and Abby. Watching Holtz flirting with the woman from the bar and the burning sensation in the pit of her stomach that spread all the way out to the tips of her ears. Holtz’s head on her lap, running her fingers through her hair. A blurry image of a twenty-four hour wedding chapel in Las Vegas.

 

She almost gasps. But she doesn’t.

 

“Hey, you okay?” Holtz asks from beside her.

 

“Yeah,” she nods automatically.

 

But she isn’t. Not really.

 

Because suddenly it all makes sense.

 

She thinks that she might have a minuscule, gargantuan, tiny, enormous, barely-there, colossal, insignificant, monumental, eensy-weensy crush on her wife. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE NECKLACE!   
> 
> 
> Aaaaand, guess who saw Waitress earlier this week? Me. It was me. (You GUYS. Sara Bareilles is REAL and I SAW HER with my BARE EYEBALLS. I will never be the same.) Anyways, the song in this chapter is from Waitress and you can listen to it [RIGHT HERE!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p2qBoXGSQPo).


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